


Fallen Idol

by WandererRiha



Series: Benign [3]
Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, TW: Blood, TW: Vomit, benign, everyone lives dammit, family fic, let them be happy, more subverted mpreg, robot babies, scanner brothers, tw: miscarriage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/pseuds/WandererRiha
Summary: There were more survivors than anyone had originally thought. Yes, YoRHa no longer existed, the Bunker had been reduced to cosmic dust, and most of the troops had succumbed to every Android’s deepest fear: the Logic virus.But not all of them had died.
Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), 4S/A2 (NieR: Automata)
Series: Benign [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917346
Comments: 63
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation of events in the "Benign" universe.  
> Set post-game, sooo spoilers.

There were more survivors than anyone had originally thought. Yes, YoRHa no longer existed, the Bunker had been reduced to cosmic dust, and most of the troops had succumbed to every Android’s deepest fear: the Logic virus.

But not all of them had died.

Many of the Bunker survivors could lay their thanks at the feet of 3S. The Commander had not been the only one to notice 9S’ poking about in the server. 3S had been conducting his own illicit investigations for some time, though had never been brave enough to breach the firewalls and defensive measures that 9S had. But he had learned enough to warn those who loved and trusted him enough to believe him. There had been evacuees, and he and 801S were alive with them somewhere on the surface of the Earth. At least, that was what the scan using the Pod network had concluded.

There were other blackbox signals online and blinking all over the world. Not all of them were nearby. Indeed, most of them were in regions yet unexplored, so distant that their individual signals could not be identified. There were androids alive out there, but the Resistance and surviving YoRHa soldiers had no idea who they were.

4S had survived primarily by remaining inside the castle during the last battle. He’d stayed safely in the library while the machines stampeded toward the Ruined City square to answer Eve’s summons. He had only emerged upon receiving communication from 9S that the coast was clear.

32S appeared a few days later with his “father”, also not as dead as everyone had thought. Apparently there was more than one merciful assassin among the Type E models. 32S and his guardian might have been damaged, but their black boxes had remained intact. Instead, they had been disconnected from the YoRHa server. This alone had saved them from contracting the Logic virus.

11S had to be scavenged from the rubble of the Flooded City defensive lines, but booted up quickly enough upon repair. He’d lost a sizable chunk of time, but perhaps it was for the best that he had no memory of anything beyond the battle with Grun.

That left only one brother missing.

42S had been the most famous, the most beloved of all the Scanners. He’d been the closest thing Androids had to a celebrity, and countless fans had been left bereft when his voice disappeared from the airwaves. Since that lost battle, he’d been listed as “missing in action, presumed dead.” No one wanted to believe it, but they also knew better than to hope.

Finding 42S’ Type-4O lance in 8B’s possession had been a shock. For one, the brief audio log stored in it did nothing to reassure any vague hopes that he might still be alive. For another, how and why did 8B come to have it? True she had been part of the detachment sent to North 12C, but 42S had not been part of the combative force. Until, apparently, he’d had no choice but to fight. 9S refused to touch it, the panicked voice of his brother’s last words flitted through his mind whenever he held the lance in his hands. It was too much like listening to a ghost whispering the frightened syllables of its dying words. Perhaps out of respect for him, 2B rarely used it herself.

Yet without it, they might never have found 42S. The last transmission had not come from Defense HQ, but from somewhere else in the uncharted wilds of North 12C. 42S had been sent to take the measure of the topography as much as the morale of the troops. Sadly, he’d included neither map nor notes, but there were a set of coordinates marking the place where he’d transmitted and recorded his final message.

Between the two of them, 9S and 4S managed to work out an approximate location. North 12C was- as the name suggested- north of the known regions of the immediate area. Beyond the factory, east of the desert, lay an empty stretch of industrialized coastline where even machine fish would not swim. The area had been so decimated by war, and endless ages of factory runoff, that there was little more of the surviving landscape than desolate tundra. As one proceeded north, the damp chill of ocean air gave way to icy wind and rain, and eventually snow.

“You really think he’s out there?” 4S asked, unsure if he had it in him to hope.

“We’ve got to look,” 9S replied, determined. “If there’s even the smallest chance that he’s still alive, I’m going to go look for him.”

However, the circular patch of red flickering off the far edge of the map seemed awfully small against the mostly uncharted wasteland of North 12C. But they only had to search that one area, not the whole of the tundra. 42S might still be alive out there. Maybe not conscious, but still salvageable. If he were functional, he would surely have made his way back before now.

4S nodded. “I’m going with you.”

9S blinked at this, but nodded. “Let me explain things to 2B and B9. They’ll worry if we just take off.”

“Yeah, I’ll let A2 know as well. When did you want to leave?”

“As soon as the girls know and we’ve got everything together. He’s been out there for too long already.”

\--

“I’m coming with you,” 2B announced upon hearing 9S’ plan.

“Bea…” he began.

“Me too!” B9 piped up, saving him from having to explain further. Instead he put an arm around his daughter and pulled her close.

“I need you to stay here with your dad,” he told her gently. “Uncle 4S and I will go. A pair of Scanners will be able to cover more territory in less time. We shouldn’t need offensive support for this.”

“But you might,” 2B pressed.

“A2’s not coming either. 42S doesn’t know either of you. He knows us, if he’s injured or scared, he’s less likely to panic if it’s just 4S and myself. It’s just a simple search-and-retrieve, Bea. In and out. We’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “Alright.”

—

“I’m scared,” she confessed much later, after they’d gone to bed. “I don’t want you going off alone into hostile territory without me. I can’t protect you from here. What if something happens?”

“It’s okay,” he stroked her hair back with one hand. “I’m a little nervous myself, but all preliminary scans show there’s no significant machine life out there. There’s not even that much native wildlife, just a lot of ice and snow, and robots can’t get frostbite.

“I’ll never be as badass as you, but I can hold my own.” He kissed her nose and she smiled briefly.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Three days, maybe four. Not more than that. If we don’t find him before then, we’ll turn back and make arrangements for a more thorough search.”

“Could I come with you then?”

“There’s nothing I’d like more, but somebody’s got to look after B9.”

2B sighed and closed her eyes as if she’d been scolded. Snuggling close, she laid her head on his shoulder. “I love her so much but I don’t like being apart from you. I can’t help you if I’m not with you, but I can’t leave our baby alone either.”

“I’m sorry, Bea.”

“Don’t. I’m the one who’s whining.”

9S kissed her hair. “You’re not whining. You are telling me your thoughts and feelings on the matter and I’m glad you are. I want to know what’s going on inside your head and your heart, I want you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. So thank you.”

“Three days?”

“Maybe four. Depends on the weather and how quickly we find him.”

“And you’ll call me?”

“Every day.”

“If something happens will you abort mission and come back?”

He hesitated for a moment then nodded. “If something serious happens, yes.”

Knowing she could ask no more of him, she nodded. “Okay. Can I give you something to remember while you're out there?”

9S felt his face heat as he realized where this was going, and couldn’t completely hold back a grin. “Sure.”

—

North 12C was every bit as derelict and desolate as 9S had expected. At first there had been broken streets, empty buildings, the suggestion of civilization. As he and 4S went deeper into territory YoRHa had lost before it had even been able to map, the landscape became more and more empty. After a while, only the scattered remains of brick and cinder block lay in frost-flecked piles to break up the monotony of endless shades of white and gray.

There were a few Machines wandering around, none of which bothered with them in the slightest. Without the Machine network to guide them, they wandered aimlessly. Most had skis or tank-like treads on their feet, enabling them to get around the frozen terrain. Rather than try to engage any of them, 9S and 4S gave them a wide berth and pressed on. Neither of them were specialized for combat, and picking a fight was the last thing they wanted to do.

Aside from the Machines, there was a startling amount of wildlife. Birds large and small came and went overhead, their cries much harsher than the soft twittering common to the ruined city. There were moose here too, but no boars. 4S had suggested catching one to ride, but could not persuade 9S who had a healthy respect for them. Smaller animals such as mice and marmots were more common. Once or twice they heard the bark of seals, and even the distant cry of wolves. Perhaps because this area had been left wild longer, nature had been able to make more rapid progress in reclaiming it.

4S looked up from his map display, squinting at the endless flats of half-frozen plains.

“I’m going to have to recalibrate the legend,” he remarked. “This place is bigger than it looks.”

“Seriously,” 9S agreed. The only thing that gave any hint to how truly vast the area was, was a line of bent and twisted electrical towers staggering away into the distance. 9S brought up his own map and compared it to the spires of warped rebar.

“42S would have tried to follow the electricity back to its source. We passed the remains of a power plant on the way in. These lead toward the area marked on the map.”

4S closed his display. “Alright, let’s go.”

\--

The electrical towers were at least easy to keep in sight amid the vast gray-and-white nothingness. The tundra- much like the desert- could be deceptive in its topography. What had appeared to be an endless stretch of dirty snow and icy sludge when viewed from a distance, proved to be littered with debris of all varieties. Rocks of various shapes and sizes, bits of broken Machines, expired Androids, as well as natural hills and valleys of the earth itself. Further complicating things was the deepening snow and the thick crusts of ice that crushed and crunched against each other in imitation of the earth’s own tectonics. 

All of this was barely visible, hidden by the glare of sun on snow until one was almost on top of a feature. An ever-present icy fog hung at an indefinite distance, seemingly never within reach. 9S was getting a decided headache from squinting through the glare, and soon dug out his old combat visor just so he could see. 4S, however, seemed to be unaffected.

“Headache?”

9S shrugged. “Just not used to everything being so bright.”

“Bright?” 4S seemed bemused. “It’s getting darker by the minute.”

“It is?” 9S squinted up through the fog, eyes watering against the light and building pain.

“Yeah. Looks like a storm’s rolling in. Pod?”

“Affirmative,” Pod 064 announced. “Inclement weather approaching from the north. High winds and heavy snow are anticipated. Proposal: Seek shelter until the weather event passes.”

“Guess that’s our answer,” 9S muttered. 42S had been alone in the elements this long, he’d have to wait a little longer. “Let’s find a place to shelter. Pod 153, scan for appropriate structures.”

“Confirmed. I have marked an appropriate location on the map.”

9S squinted at the red dot. “Damn. That’s not exactly close. We better move it.”

“Right behind you.”

Approximately ten minutes later, the storm rolled over them. 9S snatched Pod 153 before she could be swept away, her repulsors no match for the howling winds. Hugging her to his chest, he put his head down and did his best to push against the elements. 4S latched onto his arm, clutching his own Pod with the other.

“You’ve got your visor on,” he shouted over the wind. “How much further?”

The HUD only showed so much given the snow clinging to the mesh. 9S shook his head to try to dislodge some of it but only had minimal success.

“It’s over this way, come on!”

He could only pray they were still on course. Without prompting, Pod 153 turned on her scanning beam. As they approached, the indicator beep became more and more rapid. At last 9S’ foot kicked something hard and immobile. Putting out a hand- the snow was too thick to see- he encountered a concrete wall. They’d made it to the bunker. They had to edge around one corner before they found the entrance by tumbling through it and landing in a heap on the floor.

“We made it,” 4S breathed, crawling inside and away from the doorless opening.

Finally out of the wind, the Pods floated up and clicked on their lights. The inside of the shelter was small and bare. A couple of articles of broken furniture and a pile of rusted electrical components took up most of the available space.

“This must have been built to shelter a generator,” 9S observed. “Too bad everything in here’s either rusted or frozen solid.”

There were no windows, which left only the door frame to let in cold blasts of wind and snow. After some scavenging, they found the warped remains of a metal door, and propped it in place. It wasn’t much, but at least it kept the worst of the weather outside.

“Pod 153, send a transmission to Unit 2B.”

“Negative. Unable to process request. Weather event preventing signal transmission.”

“Damn,” 9S grumbled. “Record message to send as soon as there’s an available signal.”

“Affirmative.” Her light clicked on, indicating she was filming.

“Hey Bea, hey B9. 4S and I have made it about halfway. We haven’t found 42S yet. A snow storm rolled in, so we had to take shelter. We’re fine, we’re not in any danger. Weather permitting, we’re going to press on tomorrow. Love you both. I’ll call again soon. Bye.”

The camera light faded and Pod 153 swung around to her usual position just above 9S’ shoulder.

“It’s freezing in here,” 4S said, shivering.

9S was almost too hot beneath his heavy coat, but did not argue. His ears and nose had begun to sting with cold. It said something when the temperature got too low for an android to be comfortable.

“We can’t do anything else until this lets up. Grab the sleeping bags. We may as well warm up and get some rest. We’ll press on in the morning. Hopefully the storm will have blown over by then.”

4S sighed and nodded, breath escaping in a frosty cloud. “Good idea.”

They shook the snow off their jackets and kicked off their boots. 4S was visibly trembling with cold as he spread his sleeping bag on the bare concrete floor.

“Here,” 9S said, laying a hand on his arm. “It’ll be warmer if we share.”

They unfolded the bags and then zipped them together to make one larger bag big enough for two people. 9S unzipped his jacket to let 4S claim some warmth for himself. Now that they weren’t moving, exhaustion swept over him faster than the storm had, the threatening migraine digging its claws into his skull. It was just as well they were stuck here. There was no way he could have gone on like this.

“I’ll take first watch,” 4S offered. “Not that I expect anything to happen.”

“Thanks,” 9S mumbled and closed his eyes. Sleep came quick, but did not bring peaceful dreams. Beneath the howling wind, he thought he could hear the distant sound of an Android crying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful artwork courtesy of [KiraKanjo](https://twitter.com/kirakanjo)!

It was dark when they woke. Dark, and quiet. The storm had left a thick drift of snow in front of their makeshift door, blocking out all light. 9S didn’t feel very rested, and 4S was loath to leave the warmth of their shared sleeping bag, but 42S was out there somewhere in the snow. That in mind, they broke camp, and dug their way out into the snow. The red dot on the map indicating 42S’ likely location was closer than they’d thought. Hopeful that their search would soon be over, they started walking.

Defence HQ was little more than a bombed out concrete shell sticking up from the barren, frozen landscape like a mouthful of broken teeth. Inside was only rubble, and the blasted, tiny bits of exploded Machines and Androids. Everything had been broken and burned down to little more than fragments and had been left to freeze where it lay, rust spots leaching into the bare concrete floor to leave a pattern reminiscent of blood spatter.

“He’s not here,” 4S said, pointing out the obvious. Nothing and no one alive had been here for a long time. However, this was the strongest 42S’ blackbox’s signal had ever been.

“He’s not in the building,” 9S agreed, “but he’s got to be nearby.”

“Pod 153, concentrate scan in immediate area. 42S has to be around here somewhere.”

4S eyed the broken landscape; the scattered masonry and jagged plates of ice and snow.

“The bombing disturbed the ice here, probably the earth underneath as well. There are no manufactured structures underground because of the permafrost, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing below the surface.”

“You’re thinking we need to look lower.”

4S nodded and headed toward the nearest crater. 9S veered off in the other direction, skirting the edge of a deep fissure in the ice. It was easily wide enough to fall into, which made him wonder. The beam of Pod 153’s scanner suddenly stopped its slow sweep of the snow. She edged forward, directly over the crevasse, meter beeping rapidly.

“Target identified,” she said, sounding pleased with herself.

“4S!” 9S shouted, before grabbing Pod 153 and jumping. “Down here!”

“Hey wait!” 4S called from several feet above. He gave an aggrieved sigh and hurried to find a path down into the trench by which they could return.

It was dim in the icy wedge, the steep, jagged walls on either side lending a serene blue glow to the dim light of the sun and Pod 153’s flashlight.

“Target identified: Unit 42S. Status: inactive,” she said, drifting down the hall of ice and coming to rest above a small black shape. 9S felt his insides constrict in a nauseating burst of elation and terror. They’d found him, but what sort of shape was he in?

“42S!”

“Did you find him?” 4S called from the far end of the crevasse.

“Yes! Over here!” 9S hurried as quickly as he could over the jagged, slippery chunks of broken ice that made up the floor. He couldn’t help letting out a breath as his brother finally came into view, body illuminated by the spotlight of Pod 153’s beam. He was whole, and mostly intact, and appeared to be offline, but not dead. His blackbox signal was still decently strong. 9S let out a shaky breath, grateful beyond words 42S was still alive.

Footsteps crunched up behind him, but 9S ignored them. It was only 4S, coming up to edge around to the other side of 42S.

“Thank everything, he’s still alive,” 4S breathed, sinking down to help examine his brother. “A mess, but alive.”

“Yeah, he’s practically frozen solid,” 9S observed.

42S lay half-curled on his right side, probably to conserve heat. His curly hair was a solid mass of frozen mats and tangles. Delicate webs of hoarfrost traced across his remaining skin. A burn mark and tracks of dried hydraulic fluid trailed from beneath a dirty, frozen bandage tied over his right eye. It took 9S a minute to realize the bandage was actually 42S’ combat visor repurposed to protect an injury. The ubiquitous black coat and short trousers of his YoRHa uniform were seemingly being held together by burn scars and grime. Exposure had discolored the distinctive black to a dingy gray-brown. The remaining fibers had frozen and become so brittle that the fabric crunched and broke under the pressure of 9S’ and 4S’ fingers as they dug their brother out of the ice.

Both his legs and one arm had been pinned beneath a fall of ice, effectively trapping him. However, it was unlikely he would have gotten far even without being frozen in place. Both legs were broken, and the pinned arm was also badly damaged. Pushing his shoulder back exposed his Pod, who shot up in alarm, laser cannons poised to fire.

“Whoa! Hey buddy, it’s only us,” 9S protested, putting both hands in the air in surrender. “You remember us, right?”

42S’ pod- 9S could not remember its designation number- evidently recognized its fellow pods. It circled Pod 153 and Pod 064 happily before darting back down to press against 42S’ chest.

“She’s been keeping him warm,” 4S said quietly. “If not for her, his blackbox probably would have frozen and cracked.”

Reaching, 9S ran his hand back and forth over the Pod’s upper plate. “It’s okay, girl. We got this. Think you can help us get him out?”

It took the efforts of both Androids and all three pods to free 42S from the ice. They made a cursory sweep for any integral parts that might have been lost and then prepped him for the trip home. It was too cold for staunching gel, so his damaged limbs were wrapped the old-fashioned way in layers of tape and bandages. They’d brought an extra sleeping bag in hopes that they’d need to use it. 42S was zipped inside with his Pod who refused to stray more than a few inches from her master’s side.

Now that his brother was out of the ice, 9S tried to give him a once-over. There wasn’t much new to discover physically, and he was too frozen to test things like joint range of motion or circuitry response. Cradling the side of his head in one hand, 9S concentrated and prepared to hack. No sooner had he attempted to dive into 42S’ head than he was violently hacked in return. The burst of light and pain was so intense, so unexpected, that it knocked him flat on his back.

“9S!” 4S’ cry of alarm sounded distantly in 9S’ ringing ears. 9S tried to wave him off, even as he turned on his side and retched. Mental backlash was never fun, but he hadn’t expected to take hacking damage from someone he was trying to help.

“Okay,” he groaned, dragging himself to hands and knees. “That one’s on me. Shoulda known better.”

He let 42S help him up; had to clutch at him briefly until the world settled and gravity reestablished itself. A few feet away, 42S lay half out of the sleeping bag, desperately trying to crawl away using his one good arm, staring at them in unadulterated terror.

“42S?” 9S held out a hand toward him.

“ _No!_ ” 42S screamed, voice raw and distorted. “ _Don’t! Don’t touch me! Don’t come near me!_ ”

At once 9S lowered his hand and crouched down on the ice so he wouldn’t loom so much over his brother. “Shh… It’s okay. It’s just us. D’you remember? It’s 9S and 4S, your brothers. We’re gonna take you home, okay?”

“Nines?” 42S rasped. “Fours?” Oily tears welled up and ran down his cheek only to freeze in place. “I thought-- I thought-- I thought-t-t-t-t-t-t-”

He couldn’t go on, his speech stalled on the last syllable. 42S twitched where he lay, eyelids blinking rapid and uneven, before something short-circuited and he collapsed heavily to the ground, unconscious.

“At least he knew us,” 4S remarked, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. “His damage must be more extensive than we thought, but hacking him’s clearly out.”

“Yeah,” 9S agreed, rubbing his head with one hand.

4S turned to him. “You okay? I’ve never seen you throw up after taking hacking damage before.”

9S shook his head. “I’m fine. He didn’t get me that badly, just caught me off guard. And I whacked my head on the way down. S’okay. I’ve got a thick skull.”

4S snorted, grateful for the levity. “We should get him back to the Resistance camp for a thorough examination and repairs.”

“Right.”

With the help of their pods, 9S and 4S managed to carry 42S out of the crevasse and up a rocky slope back onto solid ground.

“Let’s head back to the generator shed where we waited out the storm,” 9S suggested. “We can send a transmission from there to the Resistance camp for a pickup team to meet us near the factory.”

“Sounds good,” 4S agreed.

\--

The remains of the generator shed they’d sheltered in seemed farther away. Perhaps it was because of the complication of carrying 42S back. Too bad there was no way to balance an unconscious Android on one of the wild moose roaming the open tundra. That sure would have sped things up. By the time they made it back, 9S had a blinding snow headache and was drenched in condensation. Once out of the wind, he threw off his heavy coat, followed by his shirt and boots.

“What are you doing?” 4S asked, hastily averting his eyes.

9S unzipped 42S’ sleeping bag and went about tearing off what was left of his uniform before lying down and wrapping his brother in his arms. His breath caught at the sudden shock of cold against his skin.

“Warming him up. We drag him into town, even at a walking pace, we risk damaging anything that’s frozen. Even if it’s not a solid chunk of ice, extreme temperature change could crack his blackbox. It’s better if we warm him up as much as we can now.”

“Okay, good point.” 4S shed his outer garments as well and unrolled a second sleeping bag to spread over them.

“Pod 153, open a communication to Unit 2B.”

At once the screen projection flickered into place, 2B’s worried face taking up most of the display.

“Nines!” her worry melted away into a wide smile.

“Hey Bea. We’re fine, and I’ve got good news: we found him.”

“I was wondering who that was.” her head tilted and her eyes narrowed as she peered at the screen. “ETA?”

“We’re probably going to need that extra day. We’ll need a maintenance crew to meet us at the factory. 42S is in rough shape, damage extensive and unknown. He’ll require immediate treatment.”

“Understood. I’ll contact Devola and Popola and tell them to meet you there.”

“Thanks, Bea. Is B9 there?”

“Yes, do you want me to call her?”

9S opened his mouth to say ‘yes’ and caught himself. “Do you think 42S would freak her out?”

2B chewed her lip in thought. “I don’t know. Do you?”

“She’ll get mad if she doesn’t get a chance to talk to me. Oh-- I know! Pod 153, narrow focus to just me.”

“Understood.”

Now only 9S’ face showed on the projection.

“Okay, that should do it. Go ahead and call her.”

2B disappeared and B9’s smiling face popped into view.

“Mommy!”

9S smiled. “Hi sweetie. You bein’ good for your dad?”

“Course I am! Did you find Uncle 42S?”

“Yes we did.”

“Can I see him?”

“He’s asleep right now, honey. You can meet him once we get him home, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, disappointed. “Are you coming home soon?”

“Tomorrow,” he promised. “We’ll all be home tomorrow.”


	3. Chapter 3

9S had never thought he’d be glad to see the Factory again. The looming spires of its smokestacks and storage silos made a welcome sight. It was nothing, however, compared to 2B and B9 waiting for him, with A2, Devola, and Popola just behind them.

“Nines!” 2B didn’t wait for him to cross the catwalk. She ran at him full tilt, scooping him up in her arms and hugging him close. Laughing, 9S held on and met her with just as much relief when she kissed him.

“Mommy!” B9 came running and 9S swept her into a twirling hug much the way 2B had him. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.”

“Take it easy there, love birds,” Devola said, though the words were softened by a smile. “Let’s get the patient back to camp first.”

“Any developments?” Popola asked, eyeing what she could of 42S’ ruined face; the only part of him visible from within the sleeping bag.

9S shook his head. “None. He started up briefly when we found him, but has been out cold since then. Speaking of which, he was frozen nearly solid. If not for his Pod, he probably wouldn’t have made it. She’s in the bag with him and could use some work as well. I’m worried if he doesn’t warm up slowly, he may end up damaged even worse.”

Devola nodded. “Smart. We’ll let him thaw out in your old room. It’s cooler in there than it is in the medical wing. Plus, it’s close enough we can bring over any supplies we might need.”

“4S or myself should be there when he wakes up. He’ll freak out if he’s among strangers.”

“He freaked out at us,” 4S pointed out. “It’s debatable if he’ll remember meeting us at all.”

“He recognized us,” 9S insisted. “I want to be there.”

Popola made a placating gesture with her hands. “Of course. We’ll be happy to have any help you can give.”

\--

It was just as well they’d moved out of their old room months ago. Having three people sleeping in such a small space just wasn’t practical. 2B, 9S, and B9 had selected one one of the derelict apartments overlooking the pond and small falls near the Resistance camp entrance. From there, they could hear the falls and have a space to call their own while also being close enough to fall back to the Resistance camp should the need arise. Unable to offer any assistance in a medical capacity, A2, 2B, and B9 had retreated, allowing the Scanners to take care of their own.

Devola and Popola started small, clearing the little cement room so that they had space to work. The first order of business was to assess 42S’ injuries and get him clean and warm. Despite the insulation of the sleeping bag, and the steady heat from his Pod, 42S’ body was still cold to the touch. Not freezing, but far from warm.

“Poor thing,” Popola murmured. “How long was he out there?”

9S hung his head. “About four years, I think.”

“About that,” 4S agreed.

“C’mon sweetie, let go,” Devola tried to coax 42S’ Pod into leaving her place in her master’s arms. “It’s safe now, and I can tell you desperately need to recharge.”

The pod gave a distressed chirrup and pressed closer.

“She’s the only reason he’s still alive,” 4S explained, voice quiet. “She kept him warm all by herself the whole time.”

“Oh honey…” She smoothed a hand over the pod’s plating in a gentle caress. “Um...what’s her designation?”

“Pod 219,” 4S supplied. 9S made a mental note. “You’re probably going to have to shut her down to get her off of him.”

“You’re probably right,” Devola agreed. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” Reaching, she touched the appropriate points and Pod 219 dropped fully onto 42S’ chest. Devola carried her over to the charging station and gently put her in place.

“There we go. You’ll feel much better after you’ve had a chance to rest and recharge.” 

“Is there anything we can do to help?” 9S asked.

“You can get him cleaned up if you want. You mentioned he might panic if he wakes up to someone unfamiliar, though I don’t really see that happening.”

“Well, not everyone can handle waking up to two beautiful women staring down at them,” 9S teased. Popola rolled her eyes, Devola snorted. 

Crouching down, 9S lifted 42S in his arms and set him on the bed. His uniform was mostly gone, only his thin cotton undershirt remained more or less intact. 9S carefully worked it past his brother’s broken arm and over his head. That left him in the welded-on black boxer-briefs that all Scanner models came in by default. Although there was nothing to see, 9S draped a towel over 42S’ lap before reaching for the basin of hot water and soap that Popola had prepared.

Ordinarily, he would have started with 42S’ face and the oil-crusted bandage over his eye, but given how he’d reacted to being hacked, 9S decided to leave that for last. It took two basins of water to sponge off the worst of the grime, and then 9S had to stop when he realized he was washing away skin. Swallowing hard, he put the washcloth down.

All that was left was the damaged eye. Carefully, 9S reached to untie the bandage. 42S jerked in his arms and let out a savage noise, part growl, part electronic screech. Lunging, he sank his teeth into the nearest thing available: 9S’ neck.

9S yelped himself, more out of surprise than pain.

“Hey!” 4S rushed to intervene, but found he could only stand by helplessly. To try to tear 42S off of 9S would only make things worse. “42 stop it! _Stop!_ ”

“42, it’s 9S,” 9S protested, voice box constricted beneath his brother’s jaws. “It’s _Nines!_ ”

“42, let _go!_ ”

A touch to his shoulder was enough to get 42S to disengage, but he snarled and snapped at 4S who jumped back. 42S fell to the bed, the mild shock of hitting the mattress enough to knock him out of his frenzy. He blinked hard, evidently trying to focus, his remaining eye darting from one person to another.

“Who…? Where…?”

Popola stepped forward, bandage and staunching gel at the ready, but 9S held up a hand. The high collar of his shirt had kept 42S’s teeth from breaking skin, though he was likely to have an impressive bruise later. 42S had recoiled at her approach and they didn’t need him spooked even worse.

“It’s okay, 42,” 9S said gently, sinking down to perch on the edge of the bed. “It’s just us, 9S and 4S. We brought you home. That’s Devola and Popola. They just want to help.”

“N-n-n-ot-t-t-t my ey-e-e-e-e…” 42S stammered, voice box skipping and hiccupping the syllables.

“Not your eye. We won’t hack you either. Okay?”

“No sca-a-a-a-” he got stuck again, the word finally cut off by a violent fit of coughing that resulted in him retching hydraulic fluid.

“Okay, no scans. Not right now. We need to get you warmed up first. Is that okay?”

“M’cold…”

“Yeah, I bet you are. Here.” 9S undid the catch on his cloak and wrapped it around 42S. “Looks good on you.” 9S smiled and amazingly, one side of 42S’s mouth quirked in a vague suggestion of a smile.

“Can I?” 9S held out one arm to 42S who flinched and edged away.

“Okay, no. That’s fine. Do you think you could let the girls patch your arm and legs; maybe do a physical scan?”

42S did his best to curl in on himself, clutching 9S’ cloak with his remaining hand.

“Alright. We’ll let you rest and warm up a little, how does that sound?”

He didn’t answer, just curled up tighter and hid his face in the blankets. At a look from 9S, everyone left the room and went outside.

“I don’t like leaving him alone and unexamined,” Devola said, clearly unhappy with the turn of events.

“He’s got one arm and no legs. How much trouble can he get into?” 9S countered. “He needs to warm up and that will take time. Let him sleep. He’s probably drained as badly as his pod.”

Devola sighed. “Okay, okay, fine.”

“We’ll check on him periodically to make sure he’s alright,” Popola promised. “Otherwise, we’ll let you talk to him before we do any scans or maintenance.”

9S smiled for them, tired. “Thanks, guys.”

\--

It felt a little strange to turn left instead of right, to head for the crumbling staircase and not the little concrete room where 42S slept. It had been their home for almost two years, but now 9S, 2B, and B9 had a new home. There wasn’t much in it yet- not that there had been much in their old room- just a bed for each of them, some makeshift chairs and a table. It wasn’t as if they needed anything else.

2B and B9 were waiting for him with smiles and hugs. He gave them each a hug and kiss in turn, painfully glad to be home. The three days on the tundra had felt much longer. Although he was glad to see them, he couldn’t completely push the image of 42S, still broken and frightened, to the back of his mind.

 _Tomorrow,_ he promised himself, settling down to sleep in his wife’s arms. _I’ll go and check on him first thing tomorrow._


	4. Chapter 4

9S went down to the medical wing so early that Devola and Popola had not yet arrived. It didn’t matter. He could check on 42S without them. Just saying hello would not require trained medical personnel. Crossing the courtyard, he knocked on the door. Only the echo of metal on metal answered him.

“42S?” 9S knocked again but got no response. He tried the door, but it was locked. “42S? You okay?”

Now he was getting worried. “C’mon, answer me. You’re starting to freak me out.”

Still nothing. Not knowing what else to do, 9S put a hand to the lock. It took almost no thought at all to hack it and push the door open.

“I’m coming in, okay? Are you alri--” 9S trailed off, frozen, taking in everything at once.

A burnt-out OS chip lay on the floor, an unsettling aura of electricity tinting it red with heat and power.

_Logic virus…_

Not far away, a viscous puddle of cold water and oil stained the concrete. 42S lay draped half off the bed, evidently the source of the sick on the floor. 9S hurried over to him, keeping as wide a space between himself and the infected chip as he could.

“42S?” with trepidation, 9S reached and shook his brother’s shoulder gently. 42S shifted limply with the motion, more oil- dark and discolored this time- dripped to the floor. 9S pushed him onto his back and nearly retched himself. The bandage 42S had worn over his right eye fell away, the fabric burned through. The eye beneath was gone, likewise burned to nothing, leaving only a blackened, smoking hole that oozed red hydraulic fluid.

One hand pressed to his mouth, 9S stumbled back until he met the wall. It took several deep breaths and deliberate gulps to swallow back the nausea threatening to overtake him. He didn’t want to contaminate the evidence of what had happened. The puddle of sick, 42S’ ruined eye, the infected and jettisoned OS chip all pointed to one thing. He just didn’t want to believe it.

“Devola!” he shouted, “Popola! Come quick! Something’s happened!”

Both of them skidded to a halt in the doorway, pausing briefly to take in the grisly sight.

“Don’t touch the chip!” 9S warned, pointing at it. “It’s full of Logic virus.”

Popola disappeared, returning a moment later with a containment unit. Donning a pair of gloves, she carefully scooped it inside and screwed the lid closed.

“That was his OS chip,” 9S said blankly. “He can’t run without that.”

“We’ll get him a new one,” Devola promised. “I know we agreed we wouldn’t scan him but I’m going to have to break that promise. We’ve got to examine him.”

“I know,” 9S nodded. “I know…”

Without waiting for further comment, the twins took 42S from the room. If they were going to affect repairs, now was the time to do it. 4S appeared in the doorway just as they left, alarm plain on his face.

“9S? Are you okay? What happened?”

He could not answer. Too many realizations had popped into his mind like so many unwanted ads, each more horrible than the last. The connected dots formed a picture that 9S had no desire to see.

“9S? _Nines._ ” 

The sharp tone and use of his nickname made him look up, pulling him out of the spiral of thoughts. 4S stood in front of him, both hands gripping 9S’ upper arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked, tone quiet and soft.

9S struggled for words, but the choking sensation rising in his throat made it hard. 4S must have realized what was about to happen for he grabbed a nearby trashcan and shoved it at his brother. 9S leaned and retched, coughing to rid his mouth of the horrible taste of boiling water and oil.

“Easy,” 4S smoothed his back. “You done?”

“Yeah,” 9S rasped. He still felt queasy and light-headed, his insides knotted with anxiety. Putting an arm around him, 4S drew him outside. After the dim interior of his old room, the sunlight struck 9S like a blow and he staggered into his brother, squinting against the glare. 4S guided him over to sit on one of the nearby benches and gently pushed 9S’ head down so that it dangled between his knees.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“So what happened?”

9S shivered and straightened, giving himself time to find his balance. “I can’t confirm it without a scan, but I think 42S had a miscarriage.”

4S blinked. “A what now?”

“It’s a human word for when a pregnancy terminates on its own.”

“Wait, he was pregnant?”

“And infected with the Logic virus. The mingled code was on the contaminated chip.”

4S swore under his breath. 9S blinked. It wasn’t like 4S to curse. However, if ever a situation warranted the use of four-letter words, this was it.

“How did you know that’s what it was?”

“Because it reminded me of B9 before she was born. Also, he’d puked. You saw the puddle.”

4S was eyeing him suspiciously.

“What?”

“When was the last time you did a self-hack?”

“I dunno. Why?”

“Because that’s twice I’ve seen you lose your lunch over something that wouldn’t ordinarily bother you. You’ve become photophobic and overheated, and I’m willing to bet you’ve got the beginnings of a headache too.”

“Yeah but…” 9S trailed off, realization dawning. “Wait, you think?”

“You want me to hack you, or would you rather do it?”

“Do you know what you’re looking for?”

“I’m guessing I’ll know it when I see it.”

9S snorted. “Yeah. It’s kinda hard to miss.”

“So...you want me to?”

“I don’t think I have enough processing power right now. Go for it.”

“Okay. Just relax.”

It was always a little weird being hacked, especially if he wasn’t the one doing the hacking. 9S had to guide 4S, steering him away from things he didn’t need to see and to… Well shit. Alright, that explained a lot. Both of them retreated back to the waking world, 9S shaking off the feeling of having someone else inside his head. 4S, however, looked more than a little nonplussed.

“Huh,” he observed. “Congratulations.”

9S gave a shaky laugh. “Oh man, 2B’s gonna kill me.”

“Go home,” 4S told him, gentle. “Talk to your wife. I’ll handle things here.”

Reaching, 9S pulled his brother into a hug. “Thanks, man.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Nines?”

9S didn’t say anything, just marched up to 2B and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder and clutching her close. At once she put her arms around him and squeezed tight. His whole body was tense and trembling, his breath coming in ragged hiccups. She wanted to ask what had happened, to know how she could make it better. Instead, she held him, not letting go, until he had vented enough to speak.

“He didn’t know,” 9S said at last, face damp and voice choked. “He was out there for _four years_ , sick, pregnant, and all alone. I should have gone looking for him sooner; as soon as I had the chance. I could have worked it into my assignments easy enough. I could have done scans, sent transmissions, _something_.” He sniffled and looked up at her, eyes still streaming with tears. “He’s my brother and I failed him. And now he’s hurt worse.”

“No.” 2B kissed his cheek and gathered him close, stroking his hair with one hand. “You saved him. You rescued him. You and 4S found him and brought him home.”

“Yeah but…”

“ _No,_ ” she said more firmly. “We both know why you couldn’t have tracked him down earlier. Blame me if you like.”

“I could never!”

“Then stop blaming yourself.”

He stared up at her, eyes wide and sad. “I let him down, Bea. I don’t know how I’m ever going to make it up to him.”

A2’s words came to mind. “Be there. Listen. Love him. If he needs more, he’ll tell you.”

“If he ever wakes up.”

2B lifted a hand to cradle his face. 9S leaned into her palm, glad of the contact.

“Did something happen?”

He broke down again, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m sorry… it… I wasn’t expecting it and what he did…” He hiccoughed, wiped his face with his sleeve, struggling for composure. “Where’s B9?”

“Outside playing with Flora, why?”

“I just need to see her.”

2B drew him over to the glassless window that overlooked the pond and falls. B9 and her little Machine friend Flora were out on the islet making crowns out of dandelions. 9S gave a heavy sigh and hugged 2B close.

“Nines?”

“Sorry. Having a moment. I… It’s been a hell of a day and it’s not even 1200hrs yet.”

“Tell me about it?”

“I’ll try.”

He went over to the scavenged park bench that served as a sofa. With a blanket thrown over the newly replaced wooden slats, it was surprisingly comfortable. 9S sank down onto it with a heavy sigh.

“I haven’t got confirmation from Devola and Popola yet, but I can tell you what I saw. When I went down to check on 42S, he was offline. There was a burnt out OS chip on the floor so full of Logic virus it was glowing red. He’d puked, and his bandaged eye had been incinerated.”

He paused, took a deep breath.

“That’s not the worst part. A safe scan of the OS chip showed Logic virus, 42S’ code, and the code of someone else.”

2B stared at him, struggling to put together the puzzle pieces he’d laid out for her.

“He was pregnant,” 9S said into the silence. “Not very far along. Probably not even enough for him to develop any symptoms.”

2B did not respond to that, just curled up next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Bea?”

“I was...am...a fan of his. He was something consistent. A familiar voice that was always there and didn’t ask anything of me except to listen. I cried when he disappeared and his broadcasts went silent. I lost someone else who was precious to me, and I wasn’t even allowed to be upset about it.”

“Aw Bea…” he squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “I never would have guessed.”

She shrugged. “It didn’t seem important. He was dead, and you and I were never supposed to be friends.”

He rubbed her shoulder a little. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

“Will he be alright?”

“I don’t know. If anyone can repair him it’s Devola and Popola, but if he was already infected…”

There was nothing anyone could do.

“Oh Nines, I’m sorry…” Sitting up, she hugged him close. It would be horrible to have brought 42S back alive only to lose him days later.

9S snuggled his face into her neck, the familiar scent and shape of her soothing the tense feeling in his neck and shoulders. “I do have some good news. Weird timing, though.”

“What?”

9S felt his face heat. “I’m pregnant again.”

Beside him, 2B had gone stiff. “What?”

“4S figured it out before I did. I thought I was just getting headaches from the glare, and was hot from trudging through so much snow. Even when I threw up, I figured it was just hacking damage from 42S fighting back.”

She pulled back, staring at him intently, eyes bright and little patches of red staining her cheeks. He knew her well enough to interpret her poleaxed expression not as stunned silence, but cold fury.

“You’re _what?_ ” she demanded, a dangerous edge to her tone.

“Pregnant?” 9S hedged. “Again? I mean I kinda figured it’d happen eventually, us being us…”

“You went out into the wild,” she began, anger building. “Out into uncharted snow and ice with only another Scanner for backup while _pregnant?!_ ”

“I...” he tried, but 2B wasn’t finished.

“I trusted you! How could you?!”

“No wait, at the time I had no idea!”

“ _Bullshit._ ”

“No really! Okay maybe I should have and I will totally start doing monthly self-hacks from now on but I for real just found out like ten minutes ago!”

“And if you’d known?” she challenged.

“I would have whined and griped about having to stay behind. Or maybe had you or A2 come with us. Please know I wouldn’t lie to you, wouldn’t keep secrets from you just so I could have an adventure. I hope you know that.”

Anger faded, she pulled him close in a crushing hug. “I do. I also know how reckless you are.”

He laughed, chagrined. “Okay that’s fair.”

Letting go, 2B looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then stood and went to their bedroom. She returned with a length of sky blue satin in one hand. Plunking down next to him, she tied the ribbon around 9S’ head, adjusting the bow so that it sat just above his left ear.

“What’s this for?” he asked, amused and not a little befuddled.

“It’s to remind you and everyone else that you can’t be reckless. Not now. I know you don’t like being babied but...you’re carrying a baby. And they need protecting even if you don’t. So please. For me. For our baby. Wear this, and don’t do anything crazy.”

9S mouth twisted. “I feel stupid.”

“I think you look handsome, mommy.”

Both of them looked up to see B9 and Flora standing in the doorway, sticky flower crowns on their heads, and another wreath in each hand.

9S fought down a surge of panic, wondering how he had missed her approach, worried about what she might have overheard.

“I think it’s pretty,” Flora echoed. “We made crowns.”

9S smiled. “Well, as long as you think so, I’ll wear it.”

“Why are you wearing a ribbon?” B9 pressed, curious. “Are you dressing up?”

He had to swallow a laugh. “B9, how do you feel about becoming a big sister?”


	6. Chapter 6

The tainted OS chip had to be destroyed. There was nothing else to be done with it. 9S watched, feeling sick, as it oxidized, curled in on itself, and crumbled into ash. Burning it was the only sure way to purge the Logic virus. Rather than dispose of the ashes, 9S scooped them into a small canister. He could not have said why only...only what had been on that chip deserved to be recognized. Or not. It was not his decision to make. He would ask 42S once he woke up.

A quick scan of both the chip and 42S had confirmed it: 42S had been pregnant. Not very far along, probably not enough to have developed any symptoms, or notice the extra code taking up space. The amount of code had been comparatively small, not even a third the size of B9 upon her own birth. It was entirely possible 42S had had no idea he was expecting.

The chip had contained code fragments of both 42S and another Android, as well as the invasive code of the Logic virus. Evidently it had attacked the developing consciousness rather than 42S himself, and 9S could not decide if he was grateful or not. He dreaded asking 42S about it. There was no way to avoid it, yet 9S hated the thought of adding more pain to an already terrible situation.

Well, he had time. The twins were still making repairs. His arm and legs were easy enough to fix, but putting a scanner’s eyes back together was a delicate business that could not be rushed. There was a further complication in that the Logic virus seemed to have damaged the surrounding structures. Although 42S had repeatedly tested negative for any fragments of Logic virus, the wiring and superstructure around his eye remained fragile and discolored, as if the very properties of the metal and silicone had been changed. Rather than try to rebuild his entire orbital socket- a mammoth task beyond even their considerable skill- they did their best to work around it.

“Will he be okay?” 9S asked for what was surely the hundredth time. He was being pushy and annoying, but dammit, he was _worried_. Happily, Devola and Popola seemed to understand this.

“He’s not infectious,” Popola reassured him. “We can fix him, to a point anyway. We’ll need another Scanner help to recalibrate his eyes. Otherwise, the rest is comparatively easy, just time consuming.”

“That’s putting it politely, given we had to damn near rebuild him part-for-part,” Devola grumbled. Popola elbowed her sharply. “Ow! Er...yeah. What she said.”

“What… What do you want to do with this?” Popola gestured to the canister of ashes.

9S shuffled where he stood, unsure how to answer.

“I’ll take it,” he said at last. “I’ll keep it safe until 42S wakes up. He should be the one to decide.”

“Yeah, okay,” Popola agreed, and handed it to him.

9S had killed countless Machines, quite a few Androids, A2, his own wife… All but the last two had been cold and impersonal. Target practice and little more. This sent a cold shiver through him, making him gag and swallow. For some reason, this felt worse. It was terrifying in a way he could not describe to know that this as well as pregnancy was also a possibility.

Speaking of which, that was another awkward conversation that he didn’t want to have.

\--

“Okay,” 9S began, facing down the circle of his assembled brothers. 2B and B9 were off visiting Pascal’s village so B9 could play with the children, which left the house available for a family meeting. 4S, 32S, and 11S looked at him expectantly from their seats on the crates and cinder blocks that served as chairs. 3S and 801S would have to hear this later. Although they’d managed to get a transmission through last week that said they were fine if still lost, no one could manage to open a consistent communication channel with them. 9S looked back at all of them, not a visor among them. Suddenly, he wished they weren’t all staring at him with uncovered eyes of deep green, warm brown, and soft gray.

“Okay,” he said again. “This is gonna be weird and awkward but you all need to hear this.”

“Pretty sure I know where this is going,” 4S commented, wincing in sympathy.

“Yeah you probably do.”

“Don’t traumatize the children, let them live in blissful ignorance.”

“The children need to know,” 9S argued. “Or would you rather address the assembly?”

4S held up his hands in surrender. “Nope, floor’s all yours.”

9S exhaled. Perhaps it was best to just get it over with. “Right. Okay. It’s possible for Scanners to get pregnant.”

They all just stared at him, 4S unaffected, 32S and 11S looking respectively repulsed and terrified.

“Ew gross!” 32S exclaimed, drawing his knees up as if there were vermin swarming the floor.

“But I’m not even married!” 11S protested.

4S had one hand over his mouth, struggling not to laugh. 9S pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as another headache set in.

“Look, I’m just telling you guys this so you don’t get caught off guard. Permit me to wax semi-personal because all I’ve got to work with is my own experience and what happened to 42S.”

“Wait, what happened to 42?” 11S still looked alarmed.

“I don’t know,” 9S admitted. “Nothing bad, I hope. I only know he was carrying a fair bit of extra code that didn’t belong to him. It was mixed in with his own code. That’s what B9 looked like before she was born so…” he trailed off, unwilling to try to speculate.

“He had a lot of fans,” 4S reasoned. “Maybe he hooked up with one of them?”

It was certainly preferable to the other alternative. 9S hated the thought of any of his brothers being coerced or forced.

“Oh my gosh!” 32S moaned, hands over his ears. “Do we _have_ to talk about this?”

“Yes,” 9S insisted.

“But I’m never going to _have_ a significant other! This is _revolting!_ Why do I have to listen to this?”

“Because you should know how this works, if for no other reason than to protect yourself.”

32S curled up, arms around his legs, face hidden in his knees.

“32...” 4S reached to lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t want to think about somebody hurting 42…” 32S’ voice was muffled and quavering. “I don’t want to think about...about him being _mushy_ at all. It’s _gross!_ ”

4S looked to 9S for help. 9S came over and crouched down next to his brother.

“32, listen,” he laid a hand over 32S’. “I’m not trying to gross you out. I want to make sure you understand how this aspect of being a Scanner works. If you’re intimate with someone, you’ll copy pieces of their code. Enough code results in a child. I’m sorry if what I’m saying sounds weird and scary, but I want you to understand so you’ll be safe.”

32S peeked above his knees, face streaked with tears. “Yeah. Okay. Can I go?”

Rather than press the issue, 9S stood and squeezed 32S’ shoulder. “Alright. Maybe Ian can explain it better than I can.”

“Can I go too?” 11S asked. “I… I gotta think about this.”

“Yeah, go on. Sorry if I scared you. I just...wanted you to know.”

11S waved the apology away. “No I get it. You’re a good mom, and B9’s really awesome. Maybe someday I’ll be a good mom too.”

“Thanks, Les.”

11S leaned in for a one-armed hug, which 9S gladly accepted and returned with a fist-bump before watching his two younger brothers escape out the door.

“That could have gone better,” 4S remarked.

“Shut up,” 9S told him without malice. “I’ll just have to practice more for when B9 asks.”

“Yeah, and she probably will with a little brother on the way.”

9S quirked an eyebrow at him. “You know something I don’t?”

“No. Just guessing. I mean, you got a girl already. Figured you might want one of each.”

“Maybe. We’ll see how this one feels.”

“Feels, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Okay.” A pause. “How you gonna break this to 42S?”

9S sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Hopefully better than I did to you guys.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Artwork by [KiraKanjo](https://twitter.com/kirakanjo).

It wasn’t the cold that woke him, it was its absence. For the first time in ages, 42S didn’t feel the need to clench in on himself, to try to hoard as much heat around his black box as he possibly could. Maybe he was finally dead. Maybe this was the hereafter? No, it couldn’t be. His mind wouldn’t be such a mess if it was.

More out of habit than a desire to wake up, 42S rightened the little ship of his consciousness and went to investigate. Scanners were designed to be inquisitive, and 42S was no different. He proceeded step by step, booting up systems, taking inventory as he went.

The patches and repairs were evident even this deep. Code had been rearranged or deleted entirely. Where his temporary memory stores had been was only a ragged drop off and a gaping hole. The surrounding tabs and slots were stained, blackened and burnt. 42S shivered and backed away.

_Logic virus…_

Every Android had either heard the horror stories or seen it for themselves. There were no such things as survivors. He’d been infected at some point- he no longer remembered how or when- but had managed to isolate it in his temporary memory cache. Which had apparently been amputated in its entirety.

There were a couple of other things that bore the scars of infection, though nothing seemed actively contagious. Weird. Had someone gotten a vaccine to him in time? Normally vaccines were only good as a preventative measure, useless as treatment after the fact. His OS chip, by contrast, was disquietingly new and shiny.

_Right…_

His gambit must have worked, then.

Everything else seemed okay. Nothing stood out enough to warrant a deep dive. Well, might as well see where he was. Bracing himself, 42S surfaced from Safe Mode and opened his eyes.

“Hey.”

That was 9S’ voice. Turning his head brought him into view.

“How do you feel?”

It took a belated moment to realize 9S was holding his hand. 42S inhaled sharply and jerked his hand away, trying to edge as far away from his brother as he could without falling off the bed.

“Sorry! Sorry…” 9S apologized. “You’re not infectious. The twins did a scan. You’re clean. No Logic virus.”

42S stared at him. So they’d known.

“That’s why you were so scared earlier, right? Why you didn’t want to be touched. You were afraid you’d infect us.”

42S nodded slowly. “I was as good as dead anyway. I didn’t want to be responsible for killing you.”

“We had vaccines. You could have told us. We would have figured something out. Clearly, you did.”

42S turned away. “You should have just left me.”

“You really think we’d do that?” the hurt in 9S’ tone made 42S look back over his shoulder at his brother. 9S’ expression matched his voice. Leaning down, he put his arms around his brother and hugged him close.

42S stiffened at the contact, but 9S held on.

“You’re my brother. I would never have stopped looking.”

A choking sensation closed his throat, tears stung at his eyes. Rather than fight it, 42S hid his face in his brother’s shoulder and broke down. 9S held him close, smoothing his back with one hand.

“Sorry,” 42S hiccoughed, wiping at his face with one hand. His fingers encountered a bandage over his face. He’d not noticed it until then. “What…?”

9S got a tissue and carefully dabbed at his face. “Devola and Popola had to replace your eye. Does it feel okay?”

“Yeah.” He’d gotten so used to looking out of only one eye, the bandage hadn’t registered.

“Figured we’d wait till you were awake to calibrate it. I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Think you can answer a few questions?” 9S asked.

At once 42S’ insides plummeted. The calm, serious tone of voice hinted at things neither of them wanted to discuss. He still felt horrible; tired, sore, and so weak and empty that he felt as if he could be knocked off the hospital cot to shatter on the ground like an antique vase.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to do this now.”

“No it’s okay.”

“Tell me if you get tired, or it’s too much, okay?”

42S nodded carefully. His head still hurt. “Okay.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

42S closed his eyes, tried to dredge something solid from his memory banks. He couldn’t help the shiver it sent through him.

“It was so cold,” he said at last. “I got stuck in the ice, too badly damaged to move. I kept alternating between safe mode and total shut down. My pod kept trying to restart me. Before that… Before that the Machines came. I’m not a combat model, so I ran. Like a coward.”

“You ran ‘cause it was the smart thing to do,” 9S told him, smoothing a hand over 42S’ tangled curls. “Running saved your life.”

42S summoned a tired smile. “Nah, you did that. You, 4S, and-- Hey, where’s my pod?”

“She’s recharging. 4S figured he should wait to talk to you. Didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed.”

“So I didn’t imagine that? This is real?”

9S smiled for him. “Yeah, it’s real.”

“Even if it’s not, it’s a pretty rad dream. Maybe I’ll stay asleep for a while.”

That made 9S snicker. “We can finish later if you’re tired.”

“Nah, I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry we left you there for so long. I would have come sooner if I could have. I don’t have an excuse for keeping you waiting. Stuff just kept _happening_ and...well...you missed a lot.”

“What’s ‘a lot’?” 42S asked, not at all sure he wanted to hear the answer.

9S leaned back, pushed a hand through his hair, exhaled heavily. “My own timeline’s a little fuzzy but... You’d already been MIA for two years by the time we found your lance. It took us another two years to end the Machine War.”

“You did _what?!_ ” 42S shot up to a sitting position, only to collapse back down again. 9S lunged and caught him, preventing him from flopping hard onto his back.

“Whoa, easy!” 9S eased him back onto the pillow. “Yeah, like I said, you missed a lot.”

42S blinked blearily, forcing himself to refocus. “Who won?”

“No one. Both sides called it quits. Seemed the sensible thing to do since humanity’s extinct and so are the aliens. Have been for a couple thousand years. We’re still working out peace treaties with various Machine factions, but there’s a formal cease-fire in place.”

42S just stared at him.

“It’s a long story. We can talk about it more when you’re feeling stronger.”

“No, I’m okay, it’s just… It’s just a lot.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a moment, tension swirling beneath the surface in a dangerous riptide. 9S broke the silence.

“42S… That OS chip you uploaded the Logic virus onto…”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Did…” 9S shifted in his seat, bit his lip, consulted the floor for advice. 42S watched him, curious. Out of all the scanners, 9S had never had trouble speaking up, never became tongue-tied. Now, however, he seemed to be struggling for words. At last he looked up, an apologetic look in his wide, blue eyes.

“...did you know you were pregnant?”

Sound and sight faded to white, the present receding in favor of memories of soft touches, hidden kisses, stolen moments. A smiling face, a gentle voice, the promise of a secret kept. They had only met a few months before he was shipped out to Earth. There had never been much time to be together, to be _themselves_ , to be something beyond what their models and programming dictated.

“42S?”

9S’ voice called 42S back to the present. He felt a tissue blot his face, and only then realzied that tears were running back toward his ears.

“No.” The word was watery, wavering. He’d no idea it was even possible, but 9S wouldn’t lie to him. Besides, now that the possibility had been brought up, he did wonder…

9S swore under his breath. “The Logic virus attacked the shared code. We couldn’t save it. I’m sorry.”

42S nodded numbly. The information was data. Statistics. Something to be tallied and notated, not felt or processed. He couldn’t do that now, maybe not ever.

“It was my fault. It was the only way I could isolate the Logic virus. I didn’t think much of it at the time, though I did wonder where the random lump of code had come from.”

9S squeezed his hand gently. “Did someone hurt you?”

42S shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. I… I had a girlfriend…”

“Do you know what happened to her?”

“No.” 42S looked 9S over, took in the lack of uniform, of black in general. The only trace of YoRHa he could identify was the strap of 9S’ backpack running across his chest, and the choker just barely visible above his collar. Instead of regulation black he was dressed in a simple white shirt and gray trousers. 42S fingered the green cloak 9S had given him earlier. 9S had worn it enough that it smelled like him. 9S looked...older somehow, the weight of knowledge and maturity deep in his eyes if not etched into his face. Evidently time had passed while 42S lay buried in the snow. 9S’ clothes alone were proof of that. Wait a second. He didn’t remember _that_ from before.

“What’s with the bow?” he nodded at the blue ribbon tied around his brother’s head.

Raw panic flashed across 9S’ face, followed by mortification and, strangely, a deeply apologetic look.

“Well...that’s how I was able to tell you were pregnant. I’m expecting again myself. I’ve already had one baby.”

The lights dimmed briefly, the muted colors of the medical wing swirling into a murky blur. 9S’ panicked voice kept him from tumbling into oblivion completely.

“42S? _42!_ ” 9S was shouting and shaking his shoulder. “You okay? I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot.”

This was something of an understatement. He needed time to think, to feel, to process, but all of that was beyond him right now.

“I can’t…”

“You don’t have to,” 9S assured him. “I’m sorry I upset you. Just rest. We don’t have to talk any more today.”

“...thank you.”

A pause.

“Can I have my pod?

9S smiled. “Sure.”


	8. Chapter 8

They let 42S sleep. Although androids technically didn’t need to sleep, it was still highly beneficial, especially when one had been through a trying ordeal, and 42S had four years of trauma to sleep off. Besides, the twins weren’t done working on his eye. Devola and Popola had consulted each of the Scanners for advice and assistance. 9S had begged off, citing pregnancy and squeamishness. There was the possibility that some fragments of Logic virus lingered in 42S’ system and it would be fair to say that 9S was more than a little paranoid of his own developing child meeting the same fate as his brother’s. Also, he wasn’t sure he had it in him to go poking around in 42S’ superstructure without getting sick to his stomach.

11S was willing, but unreliable as far as actual skill was concerned. Spending so much time submerged in salt water had not done him any favors. 32S was likewise eager to help, but wasn’t capable of the level of intricacy required. In the end, 4S stepped up and did his best to supplement the gaps in Devola and Popola’s knowledge.

“Is he gonna be like me?” 11S asked, worry plain on his face.

“Like you?” 9S echoed, confused.

“You know. Stupid. Forgetful. Dumb.”

9S sighed. This was a conversation they’d had before.

“Les, you’re not stupid. None of us are the same as we once were. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

“It is for me. My brain’s corroded and I can’t think anymore.”

“You can still think, you just think differently than you used to.”

“You don’t have to talk down to me,” 11S huffed. “I may be younger than you, but I’m not a kid.”

9S exhaled through his nose, trying to swallow back his frustration. On one hand, 11S had every right to be upset about his circumstances. On the other, 9S wished he could convince his brother of his worth and value no matter what had happened to him.

“I’m not telling you stuff to make you feel better. 42S needs all of us now. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you’re alive and in one piece. That’s how you feel about him, right? You wouldn’t care if what happened changed him in some way, would you? The important thing is that he’s here with us. No matter what he’s like now, he’s still our brother. Does that make sense?”

11S thought about that. “Yeah. I guess.”

9S patted his shoulder. “Good man.”

Smiling for him, 11S wandered off. 9S watched him go, his own smile fading. 11S wasn’t wrong. Things weren’t the way they had been. Some things were better, some things...less so. What they were going to do with 11S, he didn’t know.

\--

“So...who’s gonna fill him in?” 4S asked.

9S lifted his head slightly to squint up at his brother. The afternoon sun was hot and too bright, but the grass was cool and the shade pleasant. Not far off, 2B, B9, and A2 were splashing about in the shallows of the stream. The cold water felt heavenly on a day like today. 9S lay splayed on his back in the grass, trying to vent what heat he could. Compiling the extra code of a child tended to make him overheat. Hopefully his cooling fan would hold out this time.

“Fill him in?”

“42S. He mentioned you dropped some bombshells on him the last time I went to help with his eye. He wanted more details.”

“Well, subtlety’s never been my strong suit,” 9S admitted. “I figured he should know the important stuff right away. I mean, the war being over’s a good thing, right?”

4S snorted. “I guess. It’s still a lot to take in.”

“I can’t really tell him much more than I did. 2B and I... we...yeah.”

4S reached and briefly grasped his hand. 9S squeezed back and let go.

“So yeah. Who _does_ have the full story?”

“What about you?” 9S asked. “You were down here for most of the last war. I think you’re the only one who hasn’t been scrapped and rebuilt at least once.”

4S shook his head. “I was in the woods cataloging the Castle archives and studying the movements of the Forest Kingdom machines. I was pretty isolated from most of it.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” 9S agreed. “32’s no good, he was scrapped and reactivated and then spent the rest of the time hiding in the desert. Also he’s...well, he’s just a kid compared to us. He’d try, but I feel like he wouldn’t have much to add.”

“And Les’ brain got corroded,” 4S continued. “He’s got a good memory, but he’s missing several months and I don’t trust him not to say something out of line.”

9S cringed. “I love him, but he’s got even less of a filter now than he did then.”

4S chuckled and leaned more fully against the trunk of the shade tree. 9S thought he looked unwell. The sound of B9’s squealing laughter pulled his attention back to the stream. She might be the newest member of their little family, but she was almost as tall as her mother and built largely from B model parts. All three of them were engaged in some elaborate game of keep-away that involved a lot of splashing and some impressive gymnastics.

Sitting up, 9S pulled off his shirt and began to unbuckle his boots. “Let’s join the girls.”

4S waved him off. “Just watching them is making me dizzy. You go ahead.”

9S frowned, eyeing his brother. “You okay?”

“Just hot. Maybe I’ll take a nap or something. I’m kind of tired.”

“You don’t look so good. C’mon and get in the water. It’ll cool you off.”

4S sighed. “Yeah, okay.” Pulling his shirt off, he stood up, but almost fell into 9S.

“Whoa!” 9S had to lunge to keep his brother upright. “You okay?”

Hand pressed to his mouth, 4S didn’t answer. Pushing 9S away, he stumbled a few steps and vomited into the grass.

“Shit, you’re overheated. C’mere.” Taking him by the arm, 9S guided 4S over to sit in the shallows. “Here, lie back.”

With a groan, 4S lay back until his whole body was submerged, his head resting on 9S’ lap.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“You mind if I…?” He held one hand poised above 4S’ head.

“You thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’?”

“Probably.”

“Okay. You know what you’re looking for. I don’t.”

“Let me show you, then.”

Hacking into someone else’s head without hurting them was always a tricky business. 9S did his best to be respectful, determinedly ignoring everything except for the one thing he was looking--

_There. Do you see it?_

_Holy shit…_ 4S’ bewildered thoughts echoed around him. Quietly, 9S withdrew, wanting to give 4S some time alone with the new life forming inside him. Drawing a deep breath, he opened his eyes to find the girls staring down at them, worried.

“Everything okay?” A2 asked.

9S smiled. “I’ll let him tell you when he wakes up.”


	9. Chapter 9

“So...you okay with it?”

A2 looked at 4S, studying his face, as if trying to see behind his eyes to the place where their shared code was stored. Reaching out, she took the side of his face in her hand.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. Nines said compiling extra code can be a strain on your processor, but nothing serious. It just makes you tired and prone to overheating.”

“And that’s it?”

“He mentioned headaches and sensitivity to light. Also broke his fan when B9 was born. So...note to self. I should probably have the twins look me over anyway. Put it in writing.”

She nodded, the hand on his cheek having moved to smooth over his hair.

“I wish I could see it. Them. Something.”

4S smiled for her. “There’s not much to see right now, but I could show you if you want.”

She shied back at that, withdrawing her hand to clutch it in her lap.

“Or not.”

“No it’s just…” she fidgeted and looked out over the forest. Their perch on one of the turret windows afforded an impressive view of the tumbled stone walls and endless stretch of treetops. 4S sat silent while she scavenged for words and the order in which to speak them.

“It’s not that I’m not good with rookies,” she said at last. “I’m not good at losing them. Not since…” her voice broke, words collapsing abruptly into silence. It was several minutes before she found her voice.

“They were just kids. First time out, and they all died. All of them except me. I lost so many people. We all did. I’m not saying I had it worse. But it was hard, okay? It was hard losing them. My squad. The Bunker. 2B and 9S dying all the damn time… I helped build Pascal’s kids a slide and then they… They...”

She inhaled raggedly, shook her head, eyes bright with held tears.

“Do you know how scared I was, how scared I still am to love you? To love this baby? Because if I lose either one of you…”

Leaning forward, 4S touched her arm, snapping her out of the spiral of horrible memories. For a moment she just stared at him. He held her gaze, ready to wait for as long as it took for her to come back to him. A bird out somewhere among the green twittered its little nonsense song, which made her smile. 4S dared to relax a little and took her hand. She squeezed it to let him know she was alright.

“I think… I think it’s like I said to 9S. There’s nothing but pain in the past. There’s no need to dwell on it anymore. I forgave him. He forgave me. I think maybe it’s time I forgave myself. I can’t go on being afraid. I already know I don’t want to be alone. Not anymore.”

Leaning forward, 4S squeezed her hand. A2 smiled and squeezed back.

“So...parents?”

She nodded. “Parents.”

4S grinned. “Cool.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the forest murmuring a wordless conversation around them.

“Can I talk to you about something else?” 4S asked. A2 gave him a one-shouldered shrug, an indication that if he wanted to speak, she would listen.

“42S is feeling really lost. It’s been four years since he was last active. We both know how much can happen in four years, at least if you’re on the front lines.”

She nodded quietly. 4S went on.

“We- my brothers and I- were trying to compare notes and realized there’s still a lot of empty space we can’t account for.”

“Makes sense. 9S kept getting killed or formatted, you were here most of the time, and what happened to the two younger ones again?”

“11S spent several months underwater after the Grun attack, and 32S got trashed his first battle and then spent the next year running around the desert with the guy who rescued him.”

“So neither of them know much either.”

4S shook his head. “Not really. I’ve been consistently active the longest, but I was in the castle archives most of the time. I don’t know much more about what went on than the rest of them.”

Looking down, A2 studied her folded hands. For a long moment, she did not speak.

“...I was there,” she said at last. “Not for all of it, but a lot of it. If I wasn’t directly involved, I at least had an idea of what was happening with YoRHa and the Resistance and the 14th Machine War. I dunno if I’m the best person to tell 42S, but if you or your brothers want to know something, I can try and help you fill in the blanks. If you want.”

“I’m sure they’d appreciate whatever you want to share.”

Reaching, he took her hands and stretched to kiss her cheek. A2 huffed a small laugh and smiled.

“....did you mean what you said? About letting me see?”

“Yeah. We should probably get off the window ledge first.”

“Okay.” She hopped down and held out her arms for him.

4S slid down, dropping into the hug she had waiting for him.

“Alright,” he said, gently tugging on her neck so that her forehead was touching his. “Close your eyes…”

She did, leaning her head against his. Framing her face in his hands, 4S closed his eyes, and took a mental step back. Opening a channel between them was easy enough, though it took conscious effort not to relax into simply sharing thoughts and emotions as they did when they made love. Instead, he pulled her over and into his mind, giving her a moment to find her footing and materialize next to him. Automatically, she grabbed his hand, as if frightened of getting lost in the maze of his thoughts.

 _‘It’s okay,’_ he assured her. _‘I’ve got you.’_

 _‘This is weird,’_ she commented. _‘Your brain is really...neat. Organized.’_

4S pinched his lips together in a smile so he wouldn’t laugh. _‘Thank you. I tidied up especially for you.’_

That made her laugh and she shoved him playfully. 4S shouldered her back, finally allowing himself to laugh as well.

_‘C’mon, she’s this way.’_

_‘She?’_

_‘It feels like a ‘she’? If that makes sense? Nines said the same about B9.’_

A2 nodded, checking her longer stride so she wouldn’t overtake him. 4S led her down the pathway of his thoughts with a destination clear in mind. Before she could see it, she could hear it. A small voice gurgling and babbling to itself, as if fascinated by its own nonsense. Dropping 4S’ hand, she quickened her pace.

_‘Is that her?’_

_‘Yeah.’_

As 4S had said, there wasn’t much to see. The combined fragments of their code as yet didn’t take up that much space in his temporary memory storage, yet it seemed to recognize them. It gave an excited squeal and giggled happily. If it had had any shape to it, it might have reached for her.

 _‘Hi baby,’_ A2 said shyly, stretching out a hand but then pulling it back, afraid to touch. _‘I don’t want to mess her up.’_

 _‘You won’t,’_ 4S assured her, coming up to put an arm around her. _‘You can’t.’_

_‘You sure?’_

_‘Yeah.’_

4S placed a hand between her shoulder blades, warm and comforting. Reassured, she stepped forward and reached. The fragments of code returned the gesture, tiny cubes of information converging to form a miniature hand.

_‘Da!’_

_‘I’ve been telling her about you, about her daddy.’_

A2 swallowed hard. _‘She already knows me…’_

_‘She should. Half her code is yours.’_

A2 smiled, the baby’s little digits poking at her palm curiously.

_‘Does she have a name?’_

_‘I thought maybe you should pick. You’re better at that sort of thing than I am.’_

A2 had her doubts about that. The baby pressed its little fingers against her hand. She tried to hold it, but her own fingers overwhelmed it. The blocks of code scattered and reformed, coalescing to grab hold of her finger. Even the largest of the baby’s digits was less than half the length of her pinky. So skeletal and fragile, it hardly seemed real.

_Skeletal..._

A memory flickered in the back of her mind. Another tiny, delicate hand pulling her from cold and isolation into the sunlight. A grinning death’s head of a face, unblinking eyes still wet with tears.

_Emil?_

Wait, no. There had been another with the same face, a body more bone and machinery than flesh. The mental image was almost entirely imagination, only words tying it to something familiar: _“Maybe my mind has been confusing her with my sister the whole time…”_

When was this? Where had it come from? Were these memories even hers?

There were names, foreign as the script on the resource recovery units, yet familiar as her own body. Names she did not remember, but knew by heart. Names that had only survived, because she had. Perhaps they deserved a chance to be spoken and cherished again.

_‘I’d like to call her ‘Halua’.’_


	10. Chapter 10

9S thought about taking off the ribbon before going to visit 42S. However, he’d already seen it, and 2B would be upset if he took it off, so he left it in place. Word had gotten around regarding its significance and he was greeted with smiles and congratulations from various members of the Resistance camp. 9S smiled and waved shyly, feeling more than a little awkward. It was weird having the entire camp know he was expecting (and by association, how he’d gotten that way). It felt a little too much like advertising his own love life. Well, so long as 2B was happy, he supposed it didn’t really matter.

Devola and Popola had 42S awake and upright, making some adjustments to his new legs.

“Hope you don’t mind being a couple inches taller,” Devola commented, assisting him as he slid off the bed. “These are all we could find that would fit you.”

42S’ mouth pulled up on one side in a warped imitation of a smile. “Taller is good.”

“How’s your arm?” Popola asked. “Reflex relay working alright? No lagging?”

He stretched and flexed the fingers of his right hand. His new limbs were skinless at present, every joint in the plain black carbon plating clearly visible as he tested them out.

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

Pod 219 hovered close, all but touching his shoulder. A ring of energy appeared around 42S’ middle as the twins helped him stand.

Devola held him steady by his new arm while he found his balance. “You got it?”

“No,” 42S grabbed at her shoulder, legs trembling. “I can’t really feel them. Like...they’re _there_ , but they’re not listening. They don’t feel like me.”

“That’s okay,” Popola assured him. “Take your time.”

“Need a hand?” 9S asked, entering the medical wing.

“Oh, hey Nines,” 42S tried to smile for his brother, but it was as if he’d forgotten how, the expression coming off twisted and painful.

“You look good,” 9S told him with all sincerity. “Hey, when did you get taller than me?”

That made 42S laugh, a short bark of a sound. Like his smile, it looked as if it hurt.

“Try taking a step,” Devola suggested.

42S tried to do as instructed, but his foot went out from under him, Pod 219’s safety ring keeping him from hitting the ground. He only sank a few inches before she and the twins managed to rebalance him.

“You’re both taller than he is,” 9S pointed out. “Let me.”

Stepping closer, he stood in front of his brother and put his hands on his waist as if preparing to waltz. 42S gripped 9S’s shoulders, studying the ground as he tried again. Devola and Popola hovered on either side, ready to intervene should 42S lose his balance.

Pod 219 caught him as his knees buckled, 9S likewise lunging to keep his brother from collapsing to the floor.

“Let’s leave walking for another time and concentrate on fine-motor realignment,” Popola suggested. “You’re not going to get far if your reflex relays aren’t properly synchronized.”

“Okay,” 42S agreed tonelessly, letting the girls help him back onto the bed. Pod 219 circled him, evidently checking for injuries before pressing against his chest. 42S rested on hand on top of her chassis, holding her there.

“We’ll let you talk,” Popola said, drawing a blanket over his legs and then following her sister out of the room.

“How’re you feeling?” 9S asked once the girls had gone.

42S looked down at his covered legs. “They couldn’t fix my old legs, so I got new ones.”

“Does that bother you?”

42S shrugged. “I guess not. If the Bunker were still around, I could have just uploaded my memories to a new body. I’ve never really had to sit through repairs before.”

“It kinda sucks,” 9S agreed. That earned him another brief, twisted little half-smile.

“Sorry about the info dump the other day. I probably should have waited to fill you in.”

42S shook his head. “Nah, s’okay. I mean, it’s nice to know we’re not at war. Weird, but nice.”

“Yeah. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll take you to meet Pascal. He’s pretty cool. B9’s got a lot of little machine friends from his village. It’s not like there are any other android kids she can play with.”

“Not yet,” 42S reached and poked the edge of the blue bow.

9S blushed scarlet. “Not yet.”

“So you and 2B, huh?”

9S rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Yeah.”

The brief smile that flitted across 42S’ face seemed genuine this time. “Good. You had a huge crush on her, right?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good. I’m glad the two of you got together. And...and you have a kid now? That you…?”

“Yeah. It’s complicated. I can go into more detail whenever you feel up to it.”

42S nodded absently. Leaning back on the pillow, he hugged his pod with his original hand. The newer arm lay inert and unresponsive at his side.

“Does that one not work?”

“I dunno. I keep forgetting it’s not frozen.”

“You still cold?”

9S’ cloak was still draped over 42S’ shoulders. “I can’t seem to get warm. It’s probably all in my head.”

“I’ll find you something warm to wear,” 9S promised. “You deserve to be comfortable.”

“Oh, you’re already here.”

Both 9S and 42S looked up to see 4S standing in the doorway, a forest green ribbon tied around his head. 42S just stared, expression so blank 9S was afraid he’d bluescreened.

“42?” 9S put a hand on his shoulder. 42S jumped at the contact and shook himself.

“Sorry. You too, huh?”

“What? Oh!” 4S put a hand to his head, touching the ribbon. “I forgot about this. I… I can take it off...”

Tears had begun trailing down 42S’ cheeks, soaking the bandage over his eye. “No it’s okay. It’s… It’s… It’s fine, really. I’m… I’m happy for you. Really, I am. It’s just…so much…”

Pulling the bow off, 4S came over and put an arm around 42S. 9S kept his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry…” 42S sobbed, “I can’t stop…”

“It’s okay,” 9S tugged his own bow off and shoved it in his pocket. Now was not the time. “It _is_ a lot. I’m sorry we keep dropping bombshells on you without meaning to.”

42S leaned against him, swapping arms with his pod so that he could put one arm around 9S. For a moment they just sat there, the three of them crowded together on the little hospital bed, arms around each other.

“You guys are nice n’ warm,” 42S mumbled, tears having finally stopped.

9S gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Yeah, side-effect of being expecting. Your processor’s in overclock for as long as you’re compiling the extra code. I blew my cooling fan when I had B9.”

“I wonder if that helped keep me from freezing?” 42S mused.

“Maybe.”

“Benign,” 42S tested the word, seeing how the syllables felt in his mouth. “Can I meet her some time?”

“Sure. You can meet everyone. Come and stay with us once you’re feeling better. We’ve got lots of room in our new place.”

“Really?”

9S smiled for him. “Really.”

Amazingly, 42S smiled back a tiny bit. “Yeah. Okay. Sounds good.”


	11. Chapter 11

42S didn’t immediately leave the infirmary. His eye was still an ongoing work in progress, as was his physical therapy. He could walk short distances without losing his balance, but the relay between his new legs and his brain was finicky at best. 42S couldn’t decide if it was a mechanical or a mental issue. Performing a self-hack only led to a migraine, probably because of his still-damaged eye, and so for the moment, he gave up.

“I wish you could work on me,” he confessed to 9S when he came to see him. So far 2B and their daughter B9 had yet to make an appearance. Evidently, despite being a combat model, 2B was shy. As for B9, well, kids and hospitals didn’t usually mix. He was a wreck, and 42S didn’t want to frighten her.

9S shifted awkwardly and gave him a chagrined smile. “Well, I could try.”

“I mean, I get why you haven’t. It’s okay. Really. I don’t think there’s much anyone can do about it.”

“Hey, we got 11S up and running again. You’ll get there. I know waiting sucks, but give yourself some time.”

42S nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

9S patted his brother’s shoulder and 42S tried to smile for him.

“I...have something to ask you,” 9S began. The hitch in his voice hinted at something neither of them wanted to put into words. 

Inwardly, 42S braced himself. Had someone been infected? 9S? One of the nice red-haired ladies? Pod 219? Now he was just being ridiculous. Forcing himself to pause and take a deep breath, 42S replied:

“Ask me what?

Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, 9S drew out a small, flat canister not much bigger than the palm of his hand. Without a word, he handed it to 42S who took it, bemused.

“What’s this?”

The skin around 9S’ eyes tightened in the subtlest of winces. Briefly he glanced down, clearly searching for words, before looking up and offering an apologetic expression.

“What’s left of your old OS chip.”

“You kept it?” 42S sounded surprised.

9S shrugged. “It wasn’t my decision to make. I felt like I should ask you first.”

42S looked down at the little tin in his hands. It might have held boot polish, once. It was the right size and shape. Now it held ashes. Ashes of a thing he hadn’t even been aware of until after it was gone. He’d intentionally done his best to isolate the Logic virus in his temporary memory storage. It was the safest place to try to quarantine it. He’d spent four long years keeping it contained. Had he known what was already sleeping there...would he have done it? He didn’t know.

“Is it still dangerous?”

9S shook his head. “No. We had to burn it. It’s only dust now.” A pause. “Should I have just...thrown it away?”

42S had to think about that. “I don’t know. Was there a reason you didn’t?”

9S shifted uncomfortably. “I couldn’t. Like I said, it wasn’t my decision to make. And...maybe I let my own feelings override my logic.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just felt like she deserved to be recognized. Maybe there wasn’t much of her yet, but she was part of you and someone special. Someone who may be gone. On top of that, she saved your life. Without her...you probably wouldn’t be here.”

It wasn’t often what 9S said went over 42S’ head, but at present, his brain could not parse the words. He hadn’t known, hadn’t understood what the growing amount of code in his temporary memory was. Now that he did...

His fingers clenched around the tin protectively. 9S was right. She deserved better than to be just thrown away.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I don’t know. That’s up to you.”

\--

There was a lot to think about, but 42S’ mind could not settle on any one thing. Perhaps it was because each of the thoughts waiting to be processed were each unpleasant in their own way. A buffet of unappetizing options: bitter, sour, ashen, each flavor worse than the last.

The knowledge that the war was over wasn’t painful in and of itself. It was good news. A good thing. But he’d been MIA for most of it. 9S had given him the short version, but he lacked the details of individual stories. 9S’ and 2B’s story was easy enough to guess, they’d enacted it enough times, but it seemed they’d finally, _finally_ achieved their happy ending. Thank whatever gods there might be left.

4S had come to see him a few times, but hadn’t been able to add much. He’d been conducting research and archiving data most of the last few years. 42S was more than content to let 4S ramble about his research. He liked to listen. In another time and place, 4S might have made a good instructor. He had a way of explaining things that was easy to understand. 42S had never thought much about terraforming, or wildlife, or mushrooms, moss, or lichen, but after listening to 4S, he did. It was something calming for him to sort through when the phantasm of cold and ice started to seize his new limbs and burned at his damaged reflex relays. Everything else was still too much for him to try to wade through.

While he tried to sift through the jagged shards of thoughts and feelings, the little tin of ashes sat on the bedside table. Not accusing as such, but somehow more prominent, more present than Pod 219 despite her never leaving his side.

“What should I do with her, girl?”

Pod 219 chirruped. Her voice had vanished in the cold and snow from calling for help non-stop. However, 42S could understand her just fine. It was obvious she didn’t know either. Well, he wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe by the time he was back in one piece he’d have a better idea. Maybe.

\--

“Hey.”

42S looked up at a voice both familiar and not.

“Les!” he felt a smile stretch his lips and cheeks, pulling and cracking skin that hadn’t bent that way in a long time. 11S smiled back for him, oblivious to the oil that 42S could taste running from his split lip.

11S looked...different. Like 9S and 4S, the iconic black YoRHa uniform was gone. Instead, he wore work overalls with an abundance of pockets and a battered apron. The only traces of his old uniform were the black buckled boots which had lost much of their shine and the choker just above his collar. The biggest difference, however, was the pod hovering above and behind his shoulder.

“I came straight from work,” 11S offered, as if apologizing for his appearance. “Nines and Fours said you were up if not running. Sorry I didn’t visit earlier. I didn’t want to come empty-handed and it took me a while to find this.”

He set a thick, folded bit of fabric on 42S’ lap. Blinking, 42S picked it up, watched it unfold as he lifted it. It took him a minute to realize what it was: a fleece jacket. The fabric was a deep shade of navy blue so dark it was almost black, the texture thick and soft, almost fuzzy. Instinctively, he brought it to his face and rubbed it against his cheek. It was as soft to his face as it was to his fingers.

“Nines said you’ve been cold. That should keep you warm.”

“Does he want his cloak back?”

11S waved him off. “Nah, you need it more. Besides, he’s pregnant so he’s always too hot. He wouldn’t wear it anyway.”

42S nodded, unable to resist glancing at the tin. 11S followed his gaze.

“...is that it?”

“It?” 42S echoed, unsure how to answer.

“Your burnt-out chip.”

“Oh. Yeah. Nines said he didn’t know what to do with it, so he saved it for me.”

11S perched on the edge of the bed. He didn’t say anything right away, just sat there for a moment. For some reason, that was more comforting than 9S’ words earlier.

“Nines tried to explain it to us,” 11S said quietly. “About having kids. I didn’t know that was a thing. Never occurred to me we might be capable. Not like I ever did a lot of dating. I was too busy running the Defense Barrier. Didn’t really have time for much else.”

42S nodded, only half-listening, still staring at the tin.

“Do you want to talk about them?”

“Them?” 42S looked up at his brother.

“The person you fell in love with.”

“Oh.” The smile came unbidden, almost reflexive, when he thought about her. “Maybe some other time. She’s… She’s probably dead by now. Killed in the battle that almost killed me, or when the Logic virus hit, or some point in between.”

“You know there are survivors out there? From the Bunker? Threes and 801 were able to get some people out before all hell broke loose.”

42S straightened where he sat. “Wait, really? Nines said they’d survived, but he didn’t say anything about anyone else.”

11S nodded. “Yeah. We’ve only had brief, intermittent contact with them, but we estimate two groups of thirty to fifty people. She could be out there with them. 32 and his dad are trying to find a route to them now.”

There was nothing 42S could say to that. The possibility that she might not be lost hurt even worse than believing she was dead.

“Can you tell me her name? I could check and see if she’s with them.”

42S shook his head. “No. No, I’m sorry I can’t. Not right now. I’ve just… I’ve lost so much… I can’t. I just can’t.”

11S rested a hand on 42S’ leg. “It’s okay, I get it. I know it’s not the same, but if it makes you feel better, I lost my mind.”

42S just stared at him. 11S shrank.

“Sorry. That...that probably doesn’t help. I’m really bad at this.”

“No, it’s okay. I just...I don’t follow. You seem alright to me.” Maybe a little more blunt, a little less bossy, but still the brother 42S remembered.

“I’m not.” 11S looked away. “I can’t… I can’t scan anymore. Not on my own.” He rested an affectionate hand on his pod. “I can’t scan or read or write. I can’t see straight sometimes. When I talk, I don’t always make sense. That part of my hardware got corroded by the saltwater. The twins tried, but they can’t fix me. So my pod does all that for me.”

“Shit, Les,” 42S breathed, horror-struck. “I’m so sorry.”

11S shook his head. “Not your fault. Nothing anyone can do about it. Am I angry? Yeah. Does it suck? Hell yeah. Can I still function and work around it...yeah I can. I’m not fit to command anyone anymore, but there’s no war, so it doesn’t matter.”

“It still matters to you.”

“Yeah. It’ll probably always bug me a little, but it could be worse. I mean, yeah, I lost a chunk of my brain, of my abilities as a Scanner, but I got you and the others back so...there’s that. Not a bad trade-off.”

“You didn’t trade your brain for us, Les.”

“Maybe not willingly, but that’s what happened. Maybe what _had_ to happen. How many times did Nines and 2B try before they finally got it right? Before the stars aligned or the gods decided to cut them a break? Either way, if given the choice…” He trailed off, leaned closer and laid a hand on 42S’ original arm. “I’d still have picked all of you.”

“Aw, Les…” 42S let go of Pod 219 to pull his brother into a hug. They held on for a minute, gesture expressing what words could not, until emotion subsided.

“Where I was going with that,” 11S said, pulling back, “is that...that things happen and it’s how you deal with it that’s important.”

“I don’t know how to deal with this,” 42S admitted.

“Well, there’s two ways to look at it. One: it’s an expired OS chip full of corrupted data. Short-term memory. Something that was likely to be lost anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Throw it out. There’s no reason to feel guilty. It’s just junk.

“Two: it’s the shared code of you and someone special. Something that never got a chance to be anything more. Something you never knew was there, but still saved your life. They matter, and deserve to be remembered even if it’s only by you.”

42S looked over at the bedside table. Reaching, he took the little tin and held it in his lap.

“I don’t know why this is so hard. It’s just ashes, right? An incinerated chip. It’s not like what happened with Nines. Why does this bother me so much? Why does it _hurt?_ ”

11S took his brother’s hands, folding them more closely around the tin. “Because your heart’s already decided. It’s just waiting for your brain to catch up.”

Scrunching his eyes closed, 42S tried to breathe, tried to force himself to be calm, but the tears were already running down his cheeks. Rather than fight it, when 11S put his arms around him, 42S leaned his head on his shoulder.

“I’m so sick of crying,” he sniffled. “I’m just so tired… Everything feels so _much_...”

11S rubbed a soothing hand up and down his back. “Yeah. It sucks.”

“So… So she’s not just a burnt-out chip. She’s important. What do I _do_ with her?”

“I dunno. We could hold a decommission ceremony for her? Maybe bury her somewhere?”

“I can’t just dig a hole and leave her there! I know it’s just ashes...but it’s the ashes of my _baby_.” 42S covered his face with one hand. “God, I sound insane...”

“No you don’t. You’re a parent who lost a child. You just want what’s best for them.”

“This is gonna sound stupid, but I don’t want her to be lonely… If I bury her, she’ll be left in the cold and the dark all by herself.” And hell if he’d let that happen to anyone else.

“Then don’t. Carry her around in your pocket if you want. No one’s going to stop you.”

42S looked down at the tin, smoothed his thumb over the cool metal. “Yeah. I guess I could do that. Until I can think of something better, anyway.”

“Does she have a name?”

“No,” 42S said quietly. “Not yet.”


	12. Chapter 12

Mom had mentioned Uncle 42S coming to stay with them, but it didn’t happen right away. Although B9 had asked to come along to visit him at the medical facility, she had been told every time to stay home with dad. She would be bored, and Uncle 42S was still tired and unwell, not ready for new people. B9 wasn’t entirely sure what mom meant by that, but listening to dad talk about Uncle 42S made for a decent consolation prize. A long time ago, Uncle 42S had had a radio show- sound and music carried by electricity in the air, sort of like the jukebox in the Resistance camp- and had been very famous. Dad was a fan, but told B9 not to tell Uncle 42S that.

When Uncle 42S finally did come to stay at their house, B9 couldn’t help feeling shy and a little nervous. Although she had no solid image of him in her head, between dad’s stories about his celebrity, and mom’s warnings about his poor health, B9 was almost afraid of him. In her mind, he was bigger, taller than both her parents, and a little scary. When she finally laid eyes on him, she wasn’t sure what to think.

He was only a little taller than mom, and looked a lot like him too, except his hair was curly where mom’s was straight. He must have been cold, because he wore mom’s cloak over a heavy blue jacket. He needed help to get up the stairs, and almost fell as mom guided him to the couch. About then, he noticed her. B9 ducked behind dad, shy and a little nervous. Uncle 42S had a bandage over one eye, and it unsettled her in a way she could not describe.

“Who’s this?” he asked. His voice was quiet, kind, a little like mom’s. His smile was gentle, but very sad.

“This’s B9. Come say hello, honey.” Mom held out a hand to her, and B9 edged away from dad until she could grab mom’s hand and hide behind him instead. Mom drew her around so she had to face Uncle 42S.

“Don’t traumatize the poor kid, Nines,” Uncle 42S said to mom. “She doesn’t have to stay.”

“What happened to your face?” she asked, mesmerized by the bandage.

“B9!” mom scolded.

“No it’s okay,” Uncle 42S told mom. Turning his attention back to B9, he offered her another sad smile. “Does it scare you?”

“No,” she lied. “It’s just… Androids don’t need that sort of thing, do they?”

“Usually, no. I hurt my eye during the last battle I ever fought in. Well, ‘fought’ is stretching it a bit. Anyway, I got hurt, and a Scanner’s eyes are delicate and difficult to repair. This is just to protect my eye until it’s fixed.”

She nodded. It made sense. Still, she’d feel better if he could look at her with both eyes.

\--

B9 had trouble falling asleep when bedtime came. The idea of Uncle 42S and his bandaged eye and wobbly legs sleeping just across the hall was not at all comforting. He seemed nice enough. Perhaps it was the strangeness of another person being around. It had always been herself, mom, and dad. Soon it would be herself, mom, dad, and her little brother- mom had said the new baby would be a boy; a Scanner like him. B9 wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but liked the idea of someone else to play with.

A small noise made her lift her head from the pillow. Usually the ever-present spill of the little waterfalls outside muted most sound. Sliding out of bed, B9 crept out into the hall. The door to mom and dad’s room was mostly closed, but Uncle 42S’ stood open a few inches. It didn’t sound like mom and dad talking in their room, she was used to that. This was different. It sounded sad. Like the baby bird she’d taken to Uncle Pascal. The bird had fallen from his nest, but had been otherwise unharmed. He would eat seed from her hand now, and sometimes perch on her head or her shoulder. But this wasn’t a bird. Birds didn’t cry. Neither, she had thought, did grownups.

Evidently, she’d been wrong. Mom and dad happy-cried sometimes, but this was the first time she’d seen a grownup sad-cry. There was no possible way Uncle 42S was happy. He lay huddled under a messy pile of blankets, curled tight with his Pod in his arms, tears streaming almost silently down his face. What did one do when an adult was sad? Would it help if someone were to kiss his damaged eye better? B9 didn’t think she was brave enough for that. If anything, watching him cry unsettled her even more. What could be so bad that it would make a grownup cry?

She spent the rest of the night thinking about it.

\--

Uncle 42S did not wake up until late the next day. B9 supposed it was because he was tired from crying, or maybe he still wasn’t feeling well. Maybe his eye hurt? She wanted to ask, but something held her back. As much as she wanted to know, to understand, making him cry again would be worse. So she kept her thoughts to herself. Well, mostly to herself.

“Dad,” B9 asked as they walked hand-in-hand to school. “What does Uncle 42S like?”

“Like?” Dad echoed, confused.

“Yes. What would make him feel better?”

“Oh.” Dad had to think about that. “I’m not sure. Mom would probably know better than I would.”

“But you were a fan, right? Don’t you know a lot about him?”

Dad blushed and glanced to one side. “That was a long time ago, and it’s not the same. I only knew him from a distance. All I knew about him were the things that made him famous; his voice, his music, the way he spoke… I did feel like I knew him, like we were close friends, but we really weren’t. Before he came to our house, I’d never even seen him in person before.”

B9 nodded slowly, mulling that over. “Are you friends now?”

“I...don’t know…” Dad sounded unsure. “I hope we will be. I haven’t really talked to him yet.”

This was not unusual. Dad wasn’t much for conversation and usually let Mom do the talking. Mom liked to talk. This worked out well because Dad and B9 liked to listen.

“He’s scary,” B9 confessed.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. He just is.” How could she explain what she did not understand herself?

“Is it because of his eye?”

“Kind of?” B9 hedged. That wasn’t all of it, but she had no idea what else about Uncle 42S unnerved her. He wasn’t at all like her other uncles, who didn’t have pieces missing and didn’t cry all the time.

Uncle 4S was nice. He was a lot like Mom, but quieter. He was always happy to let her talk, or answer questions. Uncle 11S was a little weird, but nice. He got confused sometimes, but B9 liked playing hide-and-seek with him and his pod in the warehouse. Sometimes he let her help put things away. Uncle 32S was more like a cousin than an uncle. He was always ready to play with her; to explore, or hunt for buried treasure. She wished he wasn’t gone so often.

“He’s… I don’t know. He’s...he’s sad, and he hurts, and I don’t know what to do, or if I should do anything.”

Dad stopped and rested both her hands on B9’s shoulders. “I’ll tell you a little secret: adults don’t always know what to do. Mom and I aren’t really sure how to help him, either.”

B9 stared back, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Really,” Dad nodded. “For right now, Mom thinks it would be best to let him rest. He was sick for a while, and he’s still recovering. I hope once he’s had a chance to recharge, he’ll feel at least a little better.”

“Me too.” B9 got the feeling it was going to take more than a vacation to help Uncle 42S feel better.

\--

Once at school, B9 found it hard to concentrate. Ordinarily, she loved listening to Uncle Pascal, looking at books, and playing with the other children, but today her mind was too full of other things.

“B9?”

B9 jumped. Uncle Pascal stood at her shoulder, looking down at her.

“Are you listening, dear?”

B9 blushed, mortified she’d been caught not paying attention.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Pascal. I was thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?”

B9 squirmed in her sear, reluctant to answer. Uncle Pascal was quiet for a moment, then turned to the rest of the class. “Children, please finish reading the chapter on ferns. Afterwards, I’d like you to draw a picture of your favorite variety, and list three facts about it, and why it interests you.”

He turned to face her again.

“Now then. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I was just trying to think of something nice to do for Uncle 42S. All he does is sleep and cry. He’s so sad all the time. I just want to make it better for him, but I don’t know how.”

Uncle Pascal thought about that. “I see. You’re very observant, and very kind to want to do something for your uncle. I should think he’d appreciate any gesture of kindness you were to offer. Why don’t you draw him a ‘get well’ card?”

“I guess…”

“I think it would lift his spirits.”

“Yeah,” B9 agreed, more because it was the expected answer than what she actually thought, “but it’s not enough. It should be something that would really matter.”

“Well, let’s start small,” Uncle Pascal suggested, and offered her a sheet of paper and a box of stubby crayons.

\--

“Wow that’s really good!” Flora had to stand on tip-toe to lean over B9’s shoulder. Short Stubby models were, well, short and stubby, but that was alright. B9 made up for it by being the tallest in the class. She and Flora had been best friends since the first day of school. B9 eyed the card she’d drawn critically. It had come out well enough; it was bright and colorful, and she was proud of how the birds and flowers had turned out. Uncle 42S would probably like it okay, but a drawing alone didn’t seem like it would do much to make him less sad.

“Thanks. It’s for my uncle.”

“Which one?”

“42S. He’s sad.”

“Oh. Why?” Flora sat down next to her, little ski-like feet stretched out straight in front of her.

“I...don’t know,” B9 admitted. “Grownup stuff.”

“Ah,” Flora nodded. This explained a great deal. The machinations of the adult mind were indeed an enigma.

B9 went on. “I want to help, but I dunno how. I thought maybe I could do something, or give him something nice, but I’m not sure what. Dad says he used to have a radio show, and he played music, but that’s all I know.”

Flora pondered this for a moment. “Isn’t there a thing that plays music at the resistance camp?”

B9 had thought of the jukebox, but there was one considerable drawback. “Yeah, but it’s big. I can’t take it to him. And he can’t walk very well, so it would be hard to bring him to it. I don’t think he wants to be around other people right now.”

“Can’t you just bring him a CD?”

“Yeah but what would he play it on?”

“I don’t know,” Flora admitted. “Would Uncle Pascal know?”

“Maybe,” B9 said, as inspiration struck, “but I know who definitely would!”

\--

Grownups were useful, but in this instance, they were no help. What B9 needed was someone who would help her without treating her like a child. Someone who wouldn’t withhold information because they assumed she would not understand. What she needed was a bigger kid.

Emil fit the bill perfectly.

It could, however, be difficult to track him down, and then to draw his attention. Fortunately, mom and dad had given B9 a map of the city and her own pod. Flora had to hop to keep up, but they managed to corner Emil not far from the broken overpass.

“Oh hey guys!” Emil greeted them cheerily, permanent grin seeming a bit more organic. “What can I help you with?”

“We need something that will play a CD,” B9 said without preamble. “It’s for my uncle.”

“Sure! How about that?” He nodded toward the junk piled in his truck bed. Among the various bits of salvage was another jukebox that was considerably the worse for wear. It was, however, blaring Emil’s promotional song at full blast.

“Do you have anything smaller?” she asked, hands over her ears.

Emil’s grin took on a sheepish tint and volume dropped a few levels. “You mean like a portable CD player?”

“Is that small?”

“Yeah, you can hold it in your hand. It’s about the same size as a saucer, but fatter. It can play one CD at a time. Oh-- And you’ll need a set of headphones to go with it!”

“Do you have one of those?” B9 asked, hopeful.

“I do, but it’s broken. We’ll need to fix it up before it will play music.”

“Okay.” A horrible thought struck her. “I don’t have any money…”

“That’s okay,” Emil said easily. “It’s a gift! And it’s the thought that counts. Tell you what. If you can find a stretched coil, a stripped screw, and some copper alloy, that should be enough to fix it.”

“Really?” B9 asked, delighted.

“Really.”

Flora bounced a little where she stood. “Hooray! That stuff will be easy to find.”

“What about the headphones?” B9 wanted to know. “Do you know where we can find those?”

“Um….” Emil stalled, trying to think. “Gee, I dunno. If there’s none at the Resistance camp, maybe the old Defense Barrier? I could take you there if you want?”

“Yes please!” B9 grabbed Flora and boosted her onto Emil’s truck bed before climbing up herself. “Let’s go!”


	13. Chapter 13

42S had been staying with 9S and 2B and their daughter for about a week when 32S and his “father” came to visit. 42S had known AIN models existed, but had never met one. Ian- as he was known now- looked more like a standard android; taller and broader than a YoRHa model. 32S did indeed look like a child when he and his adoptive father stood side by side.

Evidently 9S frequently hosted them when they came to visit, which wasn’t as often as he would have liked. On one hand it was nice to have another brother close by. On the other, 42S couldn’t help feeling out of place. So much had happened and things never slowed down long enough for him to sort it out in his own head. Rather than try to realign the ragged edges of memory that bordered the black, cold, empty space of semi-consciousness, he did his best to listen to what 32S had to say.

“I’m a little out of the loop too,” 32S confessed. “I got trashed almost the minute I touched down. Dad found me and fixed me up. 9S and 2B brought him the chipset themselves. It was against orders, but you know Nines. To him, rules are made to be broken.”

That made 42S smile a little. Yeah, that was 9S alright.

“8B and 11B came after us but...we managed to work something out. Showed us how to disable our black box signals. That way, they could report us dead instead of actually killing us.”

42S blinked. “Wait, 8B? When was this?”

“Uhhh…” 32S looked to Ian. The larger android scratched his head as he thought. “Near to the end of the war? It was long after North 12C fell. I’m guessing she got reissued.”

“If she did, I dunno that she would have let you go,” 42S mused. “Do you know what happened to her?”

32S shook his head. “No, sorry. We haven’t seen her since then. Maybe Nines and 2B would know?”

They might indeed. He’d have to ask them later.

“Anyway, sorry we didn’t make it earlier. Dad and I have been out trying to find the Bunker survivors.”

“The what, now?”

“Bunker survivors,” 32S repeated. “We got a distress call from 3S right before the final battle. They made it down to earth in one piece, but we haven’t been able to coordinate with them.”

“They’re really alive?” 42S pressed. “You really talked to them?”

32S nodded. “Sure did! Threes and 801 are still alive, and they managed to evacuate a bunch of people each. They haven’t been able to explain ‘cause we can never keep the channel open for more than a few seconds. Without the Bunker or YoRHa networks, communication’s been virtually non-existent.

“We’ve been trying to find a path to them, but so far no luck. We can’t tell where their signal is coming from, and their blackboxes are too far away to trace.”

“None of the electrical towers work?”

There were phone poles and enormous frames of steel meant to suspend phone and electrical cables a plenty. The tundra alone had several, and there were many more standing in various states of disrepair all across the map. None of them, however, were functional.

32S shook his head. “No power, and no one to run it. Something that big can’t be powered by generator alone. Anemone’s working on building something more substantial, but sad to say it’s not exactly a priority.”

A vague headache set in as ideas sparked into existence in 42S’ head. “Does anyone have power?”

“The Machines do. The Factory and the Amusement Park both have electricity, much more than could be produced by generator. So does the Flooded City, now that I think of it.”

“There must be a power plant somewhere, but what is it using to generate electricity?”

Enlightenment lit up 32S’ face. “The waterfall in the Flooded City. That’s got to be it.”

“Any way the Machines would be willing to share?”

“We’ll definitely have to ask!” 32S was grinning from ear to ear. 42S did his best to return it, but questions were snapping into existence like pop-up alerts.

“Even if you do manage to figure out something regarding power, you still have an infrastructure problem. Most of the buildings around here have long since been gutted of utilities. The cell towers and phone polls don’t have any cables anymore. Even if they did, there’s no one broadcasting a signal. No one has an old-fashioned phone, just a communications uplink to a system that’s currently gone dark. Is there even a functioning radio anywhere?”

“Uh…” 32S exchanged a look with Ian, who shrugged.

“This sounds like something you know a lot about,” Ian observed. “I’m sure Anemone would appreciate the help.”

42S tucked his new legs up under 9S’ cloak. The extra couple of inches meant his knees came up a bit higher and made curling up a little tricky.

“Oh I… I dunno. I’ve been out of the loop a long time. That part of my brain’s probably still frozen.”

“You think?”

42S curled up tighter, studying the floor.

“Yeah. Okay. Sorry.”

42S barely heard the apology, didn’t look up when 32S and Ian left in awkward silence. Instead he sat on the couch and shivered, fighting the phantasm of ice crystals forming in his ventilation system, of oil and hydraulic fluid slowly freezing solid. The sun was shining brightly outside, the bare concrete of 9S’ home keeping its perpetual light from making things uncomfortably warm. 42S didn’t feel it, didn’t see it. Lost in the dark and the cold, he didn’t see or hear anything but an endless wind moaning across an empty expanse of ice and snow.

Something touched his hand and he jerked back to the present with a violent start. He tried to scramble to his feet but his legs tangled in the cloak. Expecting to hit the floor, he braced himself, only to be caught by strong arms.

“42?”

It was 9S’ wife, 2B.

“I’m okay,” he stammered through chattering teeth. “Th-thanks…”

Pulling him back up onto the sofa, she hesitated for a moment and then put her arms around him, drawing him close. The hug was stiff and awkward, but 42S didn’t care. She was real and warm in a way that the memories were not. Instinct made him huddle closer, head dropping to rest on her shoulder.

“I have them sometimes too,” she said quietly. “Nightmares. Flashbacks. Bad memories. When I do...9S lets me hold him. So I can know he’s real.”

42S nodded. “Nines is a good guy.”

“He is,” she agreed. “So are you.”

An unfamiliar flush of heat rushed up his collar and into his face. “Nah,” he muttered, embarrassed. “I feel like such a mooch. You and Nines have put up with me and I haven’t done much to help out or repay you.”

42S was beyond grateful that Nines and Fours had rescued him, but remained unsure of so many things. So much had changed. Without a war, without a beloved, what was he supposed to do with himself?

“You’re family,” 2B said, as if this were an explanation in and of itself. “You’re here. You’re alive. That’s enough. We’ve all lost so much. I’m glad you came back. Not just for his sake, but mine too.”

Lifting his head, 42S looked at her, tilting his head so that his good eye had full focus. Then it was her turn to blush and look away.

“I used to be- still am- a fan,” she confessed. “Back then...you were something familiar. Constant. Something I could rely on. I might have to lose Nines, lose myself...but when we came back, you were always there.”

She fell silent, swallowed, finally lifted gray eyes to meet his own. “Until you weren’t. I’d never cried for anyone except Nines. When I learned 12C had fallen, I cried for you.”

That sank deeper than embarrassment to pierce something deep within him that he’d thought had frozen over. 42S felt...touched wasn’t strong enough. Honored? Humbled.

“It was just a show,” he began, attempting to protest.

“Maybe. But it meant a lot to me. To a lot of people.”

Were any of those people still alive? Did it matter that the world had gone silent not just for him, but for the other Androids as well? It was something he hadn’t previously considered.

“That reminds me,” she went on, inspiration having struck. Extending one arm, she flicked her wrist, a weapon popping into place out of the ether. 42S blinked as she handed it to him.

“We found this a while ago. It was how we knew what had happened. I’m afraid we assumed the worst, or we would have gone looking for you sooner.”

Hesitantly, 42S accepted the weapon, hefting it in both hands. It was heavier than he remembered, yet oddly familiar. Scanners didn’t have much occasion to engage in combat, particularly not himself, but bludgeoning enemies had not been the Type 4O lance’s only purpose. With the EMP transmitter at the tip and high electrical output, it could double as a miniature radio tower as well.

“Thank you,” he managed, unsure what to do with it now that he had it.

“I’m glad I get to hear your voice again. With that, she squeezed his shoulder, kissed his hair, stood and left.

For a long time he sat there, contemplating the lance, cold memories drifting through his mind like scattered snow. Eventually he banished it to his inventory. Pod 219 hovered, waiting, and 42S laid a hand on her arm as he stood. He had to stop and find his balance before venturing forward; couldn’t find the heart to admonish Pod 219 as the golden safety ring popped into place around his waist. He was a little unsteady yet. Better to let her have her way.

Going down the stairs- why did Nines have to live on the second floor?- proved tricky but not impossible. Once off the hard-packed path leading up to the resistance camp, the uneven terrain of lumpy grass and shallow water proved more challenging. There was no one around this time of day, but the cloud-filtered sunlight was warm, and the sound of the falls calming. Summoning the little camp stool, 42S sat down, but did not send Pod 219 into the water. He didn’t want to fish. He had thinking to do.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 42S' recovery proceeds.

This was not going to plan.

“Can you reach it?” B9 called down. She had Flora by the ankles, the two of them dangling through one of the empty windows of the old Defense Bunker. Emil, in turn, had B9 secured with a cable wound around her waist that connected to a winch attached to his truck bed.

“Almost!” Flora made a grab and managed to clamp her fingers around the object in question. “Is this it?” she held it up for B9’s inspection.

“Emil?” B9 asked in turn. Emil tried to lean forward to see, wheels teetering dangerously on the edge of the window frame. Everyone screamed as they all dropped six inches as a chunk of concrete gave way.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Emil affirmed. “That’s a set of headphones.”

“Ooooh, there’s more!” Flora reached and grabbed another set, just in case the first was damage beyond repair.

“Okay, pull us up!” B9 called over her shoulder.

Carefully, Emil backed up and began to wind the rope around B9’s waist.

“Will either of these work with the CD player?” Flora held up a headset in each hand.

“I dunno. Let’s see.” B9 took the CD player and tried to fit the headphone jack into it, but it was much too big. She had better luck with the second. “Looks like this one will work. Let’s take them both back to the Resistance Camp just in case.”

“Okay,” Flora agreed. Boosting Flora up onto Emil’s truck bed, B9 clambered up after her and hung on.

“Alright, lets go!”

\--

Riding with Emil was always an adventure. He liked to go _fast_ and took flying leaps from one surface to another that even mom and dad would not have attempted. He always made it, though. B9 could never decide if it was exciting or just scary. Maybe a little of both. The three of them roared into the center of the Resistance camp, Emil’s tires screeching loudly as he skidded to a stop.

“Here we are!” he announced as B9 hopped down and then reached to lift Flora down. “Let me know how it goes!”

With that, he sped off. B9 and Flora stared after him a moment before exchanging a shrug. That was just how Emil was. Big kids were cool, but they were also kind of weird.

“We need to make sure this works before we give it to Uncle 42S,” B9 said, examining the CD player and headphones.

“How do these work?” Flora tried to fit the extra headset on her own head. “I don’t even have any ears!”

“I don’t think it’s meant to fit Machines.”

Flora sighed dramatically. “Nothing is.”

“Let’s go talk to the Jukebox lady. She should be able to tell us.”

“Okay.”

The Jukebox lady was impressed with the CD player, and offered to buy it from them. Upon learning it was for 42S, she changed her mind. Taking out a CD, she put it inside the little machine, connected the headphones, and fit them over her ears. She winced and fiddled with a small dial on the side of the CD player labeled “volume”.

“Yep, nothing wrong with this thing!” she said brightly, taking off the headphones and handing it all back to B9. “It might need a new battery now and then. I hope your uncle enjoys it.”

“Um...what would you like for the CD?” B9 asked.

“You keep it,” the Jukebox lady said, patting her hands. “I have two copies of that one. You tell him to get better for me, okay?”

B9 wasn’t sure she could do that, Uncle 42S was a little scary, but she nodded and put on a brave face. “I will. Thank you.”

B9 was not, in fact, brave enough to face her uncle directly. Writing, she reasoned, counted as a form of communication and therefore she could fulfill the Jukebox lady’s wishes without having to brave a face-to-face encounter. His eyepatch still frightened her. Instead, she took the card Uncle Pascal had suggested she draw along with the CD player and a small bunch of flowers contributed by Flora and peeked through the partially open door of his bedroom. Uncle 42S was not there. He and Mom had gone to see Aunties Devola and Popola. Carefully, B9 set the gifts down at the foot of his bed and then hurried from the room back outside to safety and Flora.

\--

“There, that should do it,” 4S announced.

42S waiting while the plates of his face slid back into place with a small hydraulic hiss. He blinked and squinted, waiting while his optical sensors adjusted to binocular vision again.

“How is it?” Devola asked, shining a small flashlight in his face. He dutifully followed the beam, eyes tracking it with only minimal lag that soon wore off.

“It’s fine.”

Devola’s brows were faintly creased as she looked at him.

“What?”

“Your eye is discolored. Not much, just a little. You sure there’s nothing off? It doesn’t hurt? No lag or error messages?”

A tight, shivery feeling seized 42S’ chest. “No. Why? What do you mean discolored?”

“Well, see for yourself.” She handed him a small mirror and with more than little trepidation, 42S peeked into it.

It was his face with surprisingly little scarring. Devola, Popola, and 4S had done an excellent job patching him up. His hair was a mess. Androids did not, in theory, need to bathe, but only with consistent maintenance. It would be fair to say that he’d neglected his personal upkeep. It was unmistakably him- a rumpled, unkempt him- but with one small difference. His left eye was the same gray-blue he remembered, but the right eye was a pale violet.

“Oh shit…” he murmured. “Why’s it like that? Am I still infected?”

“Not that we could detect,” 4S assured him. “We both scanned you up one side and down the other. You’re clean, don’t worry.”

“Then why is my eye purple?” 42S demanded, alarm rapidly escalating into panic. He knew for a fact the replacement eye had been sky blue. He’d seen it himself before it had been installed.

“I think it’s a scar.”

“What?”

“You’re not infectious, but the Logic virus still left a mark, but that’s all it is. Just a mark.”

42S nodded slowly, not happy, but reassured that he wasn’t at risk of infecting anyone. A scar. Yeah. Okay. He could live with that.

“I think it looks cool,” Devola told him, pink tinting her cheeks. “Exotic. Not a lot of Androids with heterochromia.”

“Hetero--what?”

“Heterochromia,” she repeated. “It means you have two different colored eyes. Makes you special, not that you weren’t already.”

Cheeks burning, 42S looked away and rubbed at his neck, embarrassed. “I guess.”

“No really,” 4S insisted, patting his shoulder. “You look good.”

42S smiled a little. “Well. If you say so.”

\--

Despite what Devola and 4S had said, 42S still felt a little weird going about with his eye uncovered. As war wounds went, it could have been way worse. He’d already had an arm and both legs replaced, why not an eye as well? Pod 219 no longer needed to provide a safety ring, but he still held onto her arm as he made his way back to 2B and 9S’ apartment. He should really think about getting his own place, but the very idea made him feel tired. Maybe a short nap was in order.

Someone had made his bed for him- probably 2B- the blankets smoothed and neatly folded. He did a double take as he noticed a paper bag sitting at the foot along with a piece of paper. There was also a slightly wilted bunch of flowering weeds- Queen Ann’s lace, chicory, and milkweed. He’d have to ask for a glass of water to put them in. The paper had a colorful drawing of trees and birds and flowers, along with the words: “Get Well Soon, Love B9 and Flora''. 42S smiled. B9 was a sweet little girl. He felt vaguely guilty about constantly scaring her, but wasn’t sure what to do to make her feel more at ease. Setting the paper aside, he reached for the bag.

He almost didn’t believe what he’d pulled out: an old fashioned CD player and headphones with a CD player already inside. It powered on when he pressed the button. Sitting down on the bed, 42S looped the headphones over his head and hit “play”.

The first note brought tears to his eyes. 42S tried to hold it back, he was so tired of crying, but at least this time he wasn’t crying because he was _sad_. For so long he’d been trapped in silence with only the mournful howl of wind and wolves to punctuate the endless noise of nothing. He’d never heard this song before, was unfamiliar with the artist, but listening was like reuniting with an old friend; one he’d feared he’d never meet again. By the time the CD spun to a stop, he’d stopped crying, but realized he hadn’t truly heard any of the songs, or distinguished any of the lyrics, so he hit “play” again. It took him three tries before he could listen to a song without getting lost in it. Eventually, it soothed him to sleep, smiling, the sun warm on his back beneath 9S’ cloak.

Perhaps because of his afternoon nap, he didn’t sleep much that night. Things hadn’t changed, not really, but he felt different somehow. He’d gotten back something he’d thought he’d lost. Everyone had lost so much, he was not special in that regard, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. 42S looked down at the tin in his hands. He still didn’t know what to do about that, but maybe there was something else he could do. He wasn’t lost anymore. Perhaps he could help to bring someone else back.

Standing, he tucked the tin in his pocket. Removing 9S’ cloak, he folded it up and laid it on the bed. He’d be warm enough without it once he got started.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 42S feels better and accidentally scares everyone.

“42? Hey 42, you still asleep? The girls and I were gonna go out to the Flooded City to do some fishing, I thought maybe--” 9S trailed off as he pushed open 42S’ bedroom door. The room was empty. The only things in it were the neatly made bed that consisted of mattress, blanket, and pillow, and B9’s drawing tacked to the wall above it. Neatly folded in the middle of the bed was 9S’ green cloak.

“Oh no…” he breathed. At once he turned and raced back outside, nearly knocking over 2B and B9 in the process.

“9S!” 2B called after him, grabbing B9’s wrist and tripping a bit in her effort to match pace with him through the Resistance Camp courtyard and out toward the pond. B9, holding her father’s other hand, got dragged along in the process. “What’s wrong?”

“42’s not in his room. I’m afraid he might have done something. Pod 153, scan for unit 42S’ location. Maximum field.”

“Unit 42S located,” Pod 153 reported calmly.

9S screeched to a halt in surprise, 2B and B9 running into him a moment later. The three of them managed to stay on their feet, but only just.

“What? Where?!”

“Unit 42S’ position is near the Forest Kingdom entrance.”

“The rope bridge…” 9S exchanged a horrified look with 2B. He would not be the first to throw himself off the cliff to the gorge below in hopes of ending it all.

“Go,” she told him. “Call if you need backup. B9 and I will stay here.”

“But!” B9 protested. She didn’t get a chance to say anything else. 9S quickly kissed his wife and daughter each in turn and raced off.

“Is Uncle 42 in trouble?” B9 asked.

“I hope not, sweetheart.” 2B tried to smile and squeezed B9’s hand. “I hope not.”

\--

He should, 9S reflected, have snagged a moose or a boar to ride, though that was more 2B’s department. His legs weren’t quite long enough to hang on. Never mind. The radio tower loomed ahead of him, the rapid beep of Pod 153’s search beacon both reassuring and nerve-wracking at the same time.

“Where _is_ he?” 9S demanded, straining his eyes against the glare of the sun. Only a few stray moose milled about the tall grass. At the far end of the meadow, a couple of Machines were combing the edge of the stream. They were too far inland for him to have jumped off the edge of the cliff, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other places to accomplish the same thing. Looking up, 9S spotted a small dot of dark color high up on the surviving platform.

“ _Shit!_ ” Taking a running jump, he skipped the first few bars of the ladder and madly scrambled up. “42! 42S!”

No answer. 9S grabbed the ladder with both hands and heaved, jumping rungs in order to cover the distance faster. He could feel his processor chugging, condensation beginning to drip down his face and back. He couldn’t keep this up, but the top of the ladder was in sight. He didn’t manage his usual one-handed dismount. Instead he landed flat on his back, dizzy and light-headed after so much effort. Once the sky had stopped spinning, he carefully sat up. Almost directly above him, 42S sat perched on the transmitter tower, sweatshirt tied around his waist by the sleeves, headphones covering his ears, and tools in hand. He was nodding and swaying, almost as if he were dancing while sitting still. Pod 219 had a safety ring around his middle to catch him should he lose his balance. 9S let out a sigh, feeling all the tension and worry leave him in a sickening rush. No. Not now. Vomiting over the edge of the platform was _not_ on his list of things to do today. Rather than shout- 42S was unlikely to hear him through the headphones- 9S opened a comm channel.

“ _Dude._ ” He said, somewhat more sharply than intended.

42S jumped where he sat, but didn’t fall or even wobble. Touching something at his belt, he pulled the headphones down to hang around his neck.

“Oh, hey Nines.”

“What the heck are you _doing?_ ”

“Going over the old radio tower. I think I can get it up and running again with a few repairs.”

“Really?” 9S was suddenly curious.

“Yeah. The structure is sound, it’s just been beat to hell. If we can repair it, we can establish our own network. We wouldn’t need to use the YoRHa server _or_ the Machine network. No Logic Virus, no worries. And if we have our own network, that means we have the capabilities to start looking for Threes and 801 and actually make some progress.”

9S just stared. “That’d be awesome. Just...leave a note next time, okay? You scared us half to death.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You just disappeared. I was afraid maybe…” 9S paused, searched for words. “Maybe you weren’t coming back.”

42S nodded quietly. “Yeah, that’s fair. Sorry I scared everyone. I just...wanted to do something, to give back. Everyone’s been really nice and I’ve been stuck in my own head the whole time.”

“Hey, you’re not in trouble. You went through a lot. Taking time to recover’s not a crime.”

42S smiled a little. It was small and rusty, but unmistakably real. “Thanks, Nines. Wanna come up? I could use your help.”

9S’ head spun at the very idea. “Uh, pass. Heights aren’t really my thing. Also I’m still in the doghouse from last time. I bet someone from the Resistance Camp could help, though. I’ll ask around.”

The smile widened enough so that 42S’ front teeth peeked through. “Thanks, Nines. You’re the best.”

\--

42S had never had to do much construction. He’d been a pop idol, a morale officer, a communications attache at most. However, operating all that equipment also meant he knew how to service it; how to take it apart and put it back together again. However, rebuilding a radio transmitter was a little more complicated than trouble-shooting glitchy wi-fi, or piecing together a damaged radio. He had all the spare parts he could possibly need, but assembling so many would take time.

First, the radio tower had to be repaired and reinforced. The structure was sound enough at ground level, but the metal was bent and badly rusted near the top, making it look as if the tower had begun to melt. Perhaps at one time it had, probably from whatever had damaged the surrounding buildings however many hundreds of thousands of years ago. Rather than make endless trips up the ladder, 42S installed a small dumb weighter and enlisted B9 and her little friends to help gather the needed supplies.

Once word had got around the Resistance Camp as to what he was doing, the grownups began pitching in as well. 9S and the other Scanners were already helping whenever they could. Admittedly 9S was mostly there for moral support, the long climb up the ladder made him hot and tired, and the height of the main platform made him light-headed and queasy. More often he would help select parts and assemble them at ground level before using the dumb weighter to send them up to his brother, chatting over the comm all the while.

The twins came a few times to help him with some of the more fiddly bits. Normally one never appeared without the other, but after the first few visits, Devola started coming alone.

“Popola’s not a tech geek the way I am,” she said by way of explanation when he asked. “Also, she doesn’t like heights.”

42S wondered if she wasn’t there to make sure he didn’t do something drastic. The idea floated, idle and insubstantial as the clouds, through his mind every now and then. Sure, he could jump. But would it be enough? Wouldn’t Nines and the other Scanners try to put him back together? Could he do that to them? No. No, they’d all been through enough. Although the ground was dizzyingly distant when looked at from his perch atop the bent radio tower, he felt no desire to jump. He had things to do and others to think of. Although the tin of ashes sat cold and heavy in his pocket, it no longer weighed him down the way it once had.

Androids didn’t need to eat, didn’t need to sleep, and if 42S spent all his time working on his new project, it was because he was excited about it. It was nice to have something to do, something to occupy his mind and his hands. It wasn't a distraction, not really. 3S would have said he was being constructive. At least, 42S liked to think so. Still, when he finally came down and returned to 9S’ apartment, 2B greeted him with a crushing hug. He flailed a moment before awkwardly returning it.

“I’m glad you’re back,” was all she said before letting go and stepping back. “You’ve been up there almost two weeks.”

42S blinked, surprised. It hadn’t felt like it. The tower and communication booth were coming along nicely. He was down to the last few fiddly bits and rarest materials before the tower could be completed.

“It’s almost done,” he told 9S, 2B, and B9 as they sat down to dinner. Androids didn’t need to eat, depending on what kind of food it was, it could be dangerous. However, 9S cited ‘Family Dinners’ as having been very important to previous cultures in general and human family life in particular. Apparently conversation over communal meals was supposed to build solidarity or something. It was nice, and the machine fish was actually pretty good. 2B didn’t usually serve ‘real’ fish. He’d heard mention of something about a mackerel but had been cautioned never to bring it up.

“I just need a few more things and then we can see about establishing communications with 3S, 801S, and the others.”

“We should have 32S and Ian test it out,” 9S suggested. “We could build them a transistor radio and see how far reception goes.”

“Good idea,” 42S agreed.

“Will you use it for anything else?” 2B asked.

42S tilted his head, curious. “Like what?”

2B ducked her head shyly, to study her plate, words almost too soft to hear. “What about music?”

“Oooh yes! Please do music!” B9 begged. “Daddy said you used to have a show where you played music and talked to people. I want to listen to it! Please?”

“B9, let Uncle 42 decide,” 9S admonished gently. B9’s cheeks turned pink and she shrugged into her seat, smiling.

“It’s okay,” 42S said, feeling someone ought to stick up for the girls. “It’s not a bad idea. I’d have to find some music first, as well as some people to talk to. Also, does anyone around here even own a personal radio?”

Exchanging a look with 2B, 9S smiled. “If they don’t now, they soon will.”


End file.
